Stories Left Untold - Part 1
by plappermouth
Summary: This is the true story of what happened during the second war. The true story of how Harry Potter survived the killing curse and came to be the hero we all know. The story that's been forgotten by all but one. Alicia Morgan, one of the last five survivors of the resistance, is thrown back in time to that fateful Halloween night. This is her story.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Honestly, I am unsure of how I should start this story. I could start at the beginning, I suppose, but I'm not entirely sure it matters. The end… well the end matters a great deal, but I can't start there either. It's too fresh. So I suppose I'll start somewhere in between. Let's start with my name. Alicia. Alicia Morgan. Now I'm almost thirty years old, but I suppose my current age doesn't matter much either. What does matter, however, is that I am about to die. Maybe that's a good place to start. I have cancer, uncurable, they've tried, but even after all these years there is one thing the muggle and the magical world have in common. Cancer kills. And there's nothing to be done. So yeah, I'm about to die, at the age of thirty and that's why I'm writing this story down. I once swore to myself that this story would never see the light of day, that it would die with me, but now… Now I find myself with the unsurpassable desire to tell it. Just once. On these pages. It doesn't matter that no one will read it. It doesn't matter that if someone were to read it they'd never believe it. None of that matters. What matters is that it's told.

Why? Because it's the truth. The truth that no one knows about. Not a single person living on this planet but me. Not even those who were a part of it. That was the price to pay and I would pay it again. Whose story it is? Well mine. Mine and Harry Potter's, Ron Weasly's, Hermione Granger's, Draco Malfoy's and everyone else's. Because the story they know, the story you know, is nothing but a lie. Don't blame them. It's not their fault. They don't know it's all a lie. They can't remember the truth. Can't remember me. But I remember. I remember everything. Sometimes I wish I didn't. But that's not how it works.

So here I am, a dying woman rambling onto these pages, hoping that it will ease the burden on her soul. The burden that I put there myself. But let me begin… I guess I should start with the future, wellt he past now… but it was a future then. I'm being confusing…. I'm not very good at this!

2017

„Are you ready?", Thomas whispers beside me and I nodd, not feeling ready at all. How could I be? We are about to attack the ministry of Magic. Or what used to be the ministry of magic. Now it's the Deatheaters HQ. Not that it makes a difference these days. Technically the ministry went down 20 years ago, now they weren't even pretending anymore. Why should they? Voldemort has won. The resistance is all but ecxtinct. The Order of the Phoneix fought bravely and died spectacularly. One by one. The world has sunk into chaos with a madman at the top. A man to mad to realize that there's nothing left for him to rule. The people are broken. Broken by the endless wars that rage all over the planet, the chaos, the cruelty. Killing Voldemort won't change that anymore. We know that. We have lost. We're defeated, but we haven't given up yet. Killing Voldemort may not change the problem, we know that, but if we're going down, and we will eventually, we can at least take the bastard down with us. We're not trying to save the world. It's too late for that. There are five of us. Thomas, my husband and our leader, Christi, Melchior, Fred and I. Five of us to infilitrate the enemy camp and blow it up from within. A suicide mission. What else is left?

The others nodd as well and so it begins. Our final battle. The true end of the resistance. We aren't worried about getting in. The ministry is nothing more than chaos these days. Death Eaters climbing over eachother's bodies to get close to the top and gravel at the feet of mad man on top. All we need is a bit of polyjuice potion and to pick out some of the weaker links. We've picked them in advance. People we went to school with. Fred picks George, his twin, because it's easiest for the paln, if not for him. We don't have enough potion. I know it's tough on him, to be reminded of his brother's betrayal, but there's no time fort hat now. It doesn't matter anymore. Fred knows that.

My victim is Cormac McLaggen, and I have to admit that I chose him for my own petty reasons. I stun him, take his hair, then I kill him. Melchior looks at me questioningly, but doesn't say anything. He knows I don't like to kill. I reserve it for the worst of the worst. I turn towards him.

„He killed Draco."

That's enough of an explanation. Despite the fact that Draco's father was a Death Eater from even before Draco was born, he had never shared his father's views. The entire pureblood idea had never held much appeal to a boy who'd never met anyone who wasn't a pureblood. Voldemort had killed Albus Dumbledore, his greatest enemy, when I was eight years old. After that only purebloods, and the occasional half-blood once they realized that there weren't enough pureblood's, were allowed at Hogwarts. Draco had joined the resistance early on, working as a spy for our side until Cormac had betrayed us. He sold Draco out for power, and Draco had died at the hands of his own father at the age of 25. We were engaged at the time. I love Thomas, with all my heart, but that doesn't mean that I've ever forgiven the man who killed my first love. Now he'd dead at my feet and I feel a small spark of staisfaction. Lucius is next. He's in the building, we know that much. All the important one's are at the ministry.

Thomas puts his hand on my shoulder. He has killed his Death Eater too, I don't know this one, but Thomas doesn't share my qualms about killing. Christi is ready as well and Fred is standing over the unconcious body of his twin, his face unreadable.

„Let's do this."

Thomas, Melchior, Christi and I drink our polyjuice potions and the five of us head in. As expected it isn't hard to get in. No one even glances at us or questions the fact hat we've abandoned our posts as guards. They don't think they need guards. Whose left to harm them ? We are. Fred has enough explosives to blow this place up ten times. No one is leaving it alive. We head to the basement, were the interrogation rooms are. No one stops us. No one even looks at us. The further down we head the less people we meet. Finally we reach our destination. Fred places the explosives and looks up at us.

« One spark and this place goes up in flame. Any last requests?"

We've one over this before, but I find myself speaking suddenly.

„I want to kill Lucius."

The others stare at me and Thomas frowns.

„Alicia. He's about to die. They all are."

„I want to do it myself."

„That's just stupid. The polyjuice potion is about to wear off. You can't just storm up there and go looking for him. They will recognize you."

Melchior is right, I know that, but I can't help myself. I need to do this.

„If anyone comes down blow this place up, you have my blessing, but I'm going for Lucius. Give me one hour. If I'm not back in one hour you can blow us all to pieces. »

Thomas beginst o protest, but Fred nods and I turn around and run back to the elevator. Thomas never did understand that part of me. The part that can't let go of Draco. I love Thomas, I truly do… But I always have and always will love Draco more. Thomas knows this and accepts this. His first wife died too. We both have true loves waiting for us on the other side.

I can feel the polyjuice potion wearing off as I'm in the elevator. I'm shrinking and my hair is growing rapidly and losing colour until it's completely white. I don't need to see my eyes to know they've gone back to their light blue shade. I pull the cloack over my head and, not fort he first time, curse the fact that I'm an albino. It's not very good for being sneaky. The elevator doors open and I step out, keeping my head low. I'm on the top floor now surrounded by the highest ranking Death Eaters. Lucius has to be here somewhere, I just know it. I spot him, at the end oft he hallway. He's speaking to someone else, a man with black greasy hair. It takes me a moment to recognize my former potions teacher. Severus Snape. My wand is out, pointing at Lucius when he turns around and sees me. His eyes widden, I raise my arm at the same time as the Death Eaters around me do the same and then the world goes up in pain and flames.

Halloween 1981

The pain is unbearable, unimaginable. I remember anger, anger at being so close, anger that they didn't wait the full hour and then… nothing. Sweet blissful nothing. But it didn't last. Bliss rarely does. I wake up, or I am, it's hard to tell. I am aware, that much I know. I know it because I register that I don't have a body. I am nothing but a spirit. The next thing I become aware of is the fact that I am not in the Ministry building. In fact, I am nowhere near it. I look around and realize that I'm somebody's living room. It's rather elegant but homey at the same time. A nice place to live, I think. A small voice in the back of my mind registers that I must be in shock, the rest of me calmly takes in the room. A light carpet, soft, matching couch and armchair. There are jack-o-lantern in the window. I will myself over to the fireplace. There are pictures there. Some of them show a beautiful couple, her with red hair, him with messy black hair. Her green eyes capture me. They remind me of something, but I don't know what. There are other pictures of the couple, this time with a little baby boy. He has his father's messy mop of hair and his mother's green eyes. I feel myself smile and wonder how it's possible to smile without a body.

A noise makes me turn around. It's the man from the photos. He's carrying the little boy in his arms, smiling down at him with adoration in his eyes. The redhead follows him into the living room, watching the two of them with a smile and love in her eyes. I feel a pang of jealousy. I always wanted children, but… well, the world was too cruel a place for that. Besides, Thomas had lost his son and didn't want another. I could understand that. I spend the next hour or so just watching them play with the child, a bittersweet feeling in my chest. I don't know where I am, but I know it isn't the world I come from. There is no such happiness in my world. Only pain, only bitterness.

There is a loud blast as the front door explodes into a million pieces. The man thrusts the boy into his mother's arms and is on his feet in a flash, wand at the ready.

„He's here! Get Harry to safety!"

I know who he is. There is only one he. So this is my world and Voldemort survived our explosion. We failed. The woman clutches the now crying child as she sprints up the stairs. The man turns towards the door, fear plainly on his face, his hands shaking, but he doesn't run. I feel a wave of admiration run through me as I watch him. I haven't known many men as brave as this one. I turn towards the door and watch as Lord Voldemort walks through the door. His appearance startles me. It's him, no doubt, but… He looks different. The Voldemort I know looks like a walking corpse with red eyes and slits for nostrils. This … this looks like a man. A dangerous and deadly man, but a man nevertheless. His eyes are red, and he's deathly pale, but… He has hair. I am aware of the fact that this is the wrong moment to be thinking about the fact that Lord Voldemort has hair, but the sight is so strange to me that I can't help but stare.

« Potter »

Voldemort's voice is as high and cold as I remember it, void of any human compassion.

« Step aside and I shall spare you. »

It's a lie! you want to yell, but you have no voice to use. Potter, as Voldemort called him, seems to know as much himself. He shakes his head, trying to find his voice.

„Never."

I swear I see Voldemort shrug.

„Then die. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Potter, the brave loving father who just spent the last hours playing with his son and wife, drops to the ground. Dead. I want to scream, but I can't. Voldemort steps over the dead body, ignoring the empty brown eyes staring up at him. He doesn't care. He lost his ability to care long before this night. He's heading fort he stairs and I realize what he's after. The boy! I don't know why but I know I cannot let him harm that boy. Not an innocent child. I have no clue how, but I know I must stop him. I follow him up the stairs to a shut room where I hear the child crying as the mother whispers comforting words in a shaky voice. Voldemort blasts through the door and I slip past him into the room. The woman puts the child into the crib behind her and stands in front of it protectively.

„Not Harry! Please not Harry!", she begs, tears running down her face. Doesn't she know that he doesn't care?

„Step aside woman."

„Kill me instead! Spare Harry! He's a child!"

Voldemort raises his wand, there is a flash of green light, and I watch the second parent die bravely protecting her child. I feel wild panic as I watch him approach the child crying for his mother. He raises his wand and, at the very moment that he speaks the deadly curse I will myself in front of the jet of green light, not knowing what else to do. The spell connects, I can feel it despite my lack of body, and passes through me onto the boy. There is a blast, a white hot powerful blast and I feel despair because I know I've failed. I hear the soft sound of a baby crying then everything is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

"Alicia! Breakfast", my mother calls from the kitchen and I groan as I turn over in my bed. Mornings. Why must they start so bloody early? It was almost as if they did it on purpose. I roll over, determined to never leave my warm, comfy, wonderful bed because I'm in love with it and it loves me too and we should never be apart. My stomach growls and I change my mind. I should never be apart from food. Food was my true love. My bed was just my nightly affair.

"Coming!" I shout as I roll out of bed and drop to the floor. My mother always makes fun of me for doing that but it is a very effective way to get out of the bed. Least effort required. Somewhere here on the floor I had a pair of trousers, I just know it. Ah there, found them. A green pair of trainers. Still on the floor I pull them over my feet and up to my hips. Then I am confronted with the reality of actually getting up, my least favourite part of the day. I sigh and slowly pull myself to my feet. As soon as I'm upright I sprint out of the room, down the stairs, past the gazillion photos of my parents and I and into the kitchen. I sit down, grab my knife and fork and look at my mother with big eyes.

"Food?"

She turns around and laughs.

"It's right here honey."

She drops a plate full of delicious looking hash browns and sausages in front of me and sits down in the seat across from me. I wait for her to sit down then I throw myself at my food, stuffing as much of it into my mouth as I can.

"Are you excited?"

It takes a moment for the question to register in my food oriented brain and I look up at her questioningly.

"You do remember that you're leaving for Hogwarts today, right?"

Suddenly I'm not hungry at all. I swallow what's in my mouth and stare down at my plate. Hogwarts. Most children are probably going nuts with excitement, but I am very… apprehensive about going there. I haven't told my mother, but the dreams have come back. I've had these dreams all my life and no one can explain where they come from. My parents used to take me to the doctors, trying to figure them out, but they just gave me sleeping potions. I've stopped taking them now for almost two years, but whenever I'm anxious about something they come back and haunt me. I don't describe them to people anymore, it scares them too much to have a child say such things.

"Honey?"

There is concern on her face and I look up, a fake smile on mine.

"I'm a bit scared, but I'm sure it will be fine", I say hoping it will stop her from worrying. She leans across the table and takes my hand in hers and gives it a soft squeeze.

"What are you afraid of?"

I stare back at the table, not wanting her to see my expression

"They'll make fun of me."

She sighs. This has been a problem all my life. I'm an albino so my hair is almost completely white and I'm paler than most, but my eyes, at least, are a beautiful shade of blue. That always comforted me when I felt ugly. My eyes I liked. They seem… wise somehow. It sounds silly, coming from an eleven year old, but I'd always been told that I was wise beyond my years. Well… my mother says so and she'd know. She's the most wonderful woman there is.

"And what do we do when people make fun of us?"

I give a small smile. She always says the same thing.

"We give them our best smile and pity them for their narrow-mindedness."

"Exactly. No one has the power to bring you down but you yourself."

I nod and get up to give her a hug. My mother is amazing and when I grow up I hope to be just as kind and gentle as she is. We finish our breakfast and she sends me upstairs to get changed.

"No Lisha, green trainers are not proper clothes."

"Hmpf."

But I change, because I know she's right. She usually is. Life is already hard on her without me adding to it. It's just the two of us. My father died during the last war. He was a good man, that's what my mother always says and if she says so it must be true. He looks like a kind man in the photos I've seen of him. Tall and blonde with green eyes. I get my blue eyes from my mother. Who I owe my snowy complexion and hair to is a mystery to me. Neither of them have it, but my Mother claims that she had an Albino great grandmother, so that must be it.

"We gotta go!" she calls from downstairs and I quickly shove the rest of my belongings into my trunk. It won't shut. Rats! I try it again, this time sitting on top of it and after a couple of bounces up and down the lid shuts.

"Coming!"

I have never been to London and I have most definitely never seen the Hogwarts express. Both my parents are wizards and I've grown up with magic, but my mother made a point of living humbly. She refuses to get a houself, saying that it's no better than slavery. Part of me agrees, the other part wishes I didn't have to clean all the dishes myself. The one time I brought it up she told me that I'd better drop it because it was one of the only things she and my father ever fought about. So I never brought it up again. The train is magnificent! I stare in awe at all the students and parents hurrying around. There's a large family to my right with a bunch of redheads. The Weasley's. My mother has told me about them. She works with their father, Arthur I think, from time to time at the ministry.

"Alright. Here we are."

She bends down and gives me a kiss on my forehead. I squirm because we're in public and I don't want everyone to see. To my left there is a pale blonde boy trying to escape the same fate. For a moment I think he's an albino too, but then I notice that he's not nearly as pale as I am and that his parents are both equally blonde. We both tear away from our mother's at the same time and head for the train. I turn around.

"Love you mum."

"Love you too honey."

Then I follow the blonde boy onto the train.

I'm not sure what exactly it is, but he seems oddly familiar. I'm so distracted by trying to figure out where I know him from that I don't pay attention and bump into him as he enters the train.

"Ouch"

I rub my nose as the boy turns around.

"Are you blind?" he asks in a haughty voice and I frown as he looks down at me. He's a head taller than me and that combine with his arrogant expression makes me feel like a tiny little bug.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bump into you, but you did stop rather abruptly." I say as way of explanation.

"I can stop whenever I want to. I'm surprised you didn't float right through me though, you look as if you could."

I feel myself blush. He's not the first to compare me to a ghost and probably not the last, but it still stings every time. I hate it. He gives me a smirk and turns around, continuing down isle. I stand there for a moment, feeling embarrassed and stupid, then I remember what my mother said and smile. It was my first day and that annoying boy wasn't going to ruin it for me. I found a compartment with a chubby boy and a girl with big bushy brown hair.

"May I join you?" I ask nervously.

They look up and nod, the bushy haired girl holding out her hand.

"I am Hermione Granger. First year." Then she points to the chubby boy. "This is Neville Longbottom, also a first year."

The boy give an awkward little wave.

"Alicia Morgan, but I prefer Lisha. Nice to meet you."

"Morgan, I've read about that name in Wizards Famous Geneology."

I look up at the bushy haired girl, a frown on my face.

"Ok?"

Obviously this is not the response the girl was hoping for. She sighs and, in a very condescending demeanour, goes on to explain to me that the Morgan family is one of the oldest british wizarding families and that there are legends leading us back to Merlin's times. Once she's done I simply shrug and turn towards the chubby boy.

"Neville was it?", I ask, hoping I got the name right. He nods. Lucky me.

"Are you excited?"

I know I'm being rude by ignoring Hermione, or whatever that strange name was, but I really don't know how to deal with her. She seems nice, in her own way, but she kinda makes me uncomfortable. She on the other hand doesn't seem to notice that I'm trying to ignore her and jumps into the conversation before Neville even has the chance to open his mouth.

"I am very excited", she says importantly. "I'm the first witch in my family, and my parents were both rather shocked, you know? But excited of course, magic is truly fascinating and I cannot wait to learn more about it. I've read all the first year books of course, but still, there must be so much more and it's only theory so far, so I cannot wait to find out if the practical approach is the same. I am a bit nervous about the sorting ceremony of course. I read that the house you get sorted into can have an influence for the rest of your life. Seems a bit silly to me, I mean we are only elven and will change so much. Still it is truly fascinating, the system I mean…"

Five minutes later she is still rattling on and my former discomfort turns into annoyance. Neville just sits there, staring at her with a mixture of fear and admiration in his eyes. As I look of him I suddenly see him as he will be. A grown man, strong and bulky, full of confidence as he charges the Death Eaters and is blasted to bits. I shake my head to get rid of the disturbing image and refocus on the chubby nervous boy in front of me.

"Alicia, are you alright?"

Hermione has finally stopped her monologue and looks at me with concern on her face.

"You've gone awfully pale."

"I'm fine. Just nervous myself", I say with a shaky voice and what I hope is a smile. Not entirely sure. My eyes keep wandering over to Neville and I feel a cold shudder run down my spine. I have no idea where that image came from, but I know that it's not just my imagination. It happened, or will happen, I don't know which.

"I'm nervous too", the boy says, giving me a gentle smile intended to make me feel better. I promise myself there and then that I will watch after this boy.

"What houses do you think you'll be in?" Hermione asks.

"I don't really know… my gran reckons I'll be a Hufflepuff on account of being so useless and all", Neville stutters as he looks down. Hermione opens her mouth to say something but I cut her off.

"I think you'll be a Gryffindor", I say and give the surprised boy a smile. I think about the older Neville, throwing himself into battle and add. "You look like the sort of person who has quite a lot of courage hidden in your heart."

He blushes and stares down at his hands, but I can tell he's smiling. Hermione gives me an odd look and then a small smile.

"I agree with Lisha. And I personally hope I'll be in Gryffindor too, or Ravencalw…I can't quite make up my mind about those two."

"I think you'd be good in both places", I say with a smile, slowly warming up to the girl. She talks a lot and is a knowitall, but the way she treats Neville makes me think that she's a good person. She smiles back at me.

"And you?"

I think for a moment. I've discussed this with my mother at length, but I still don't know. Each of the four houses has a lot to offer. All four qualities should not be dismissed.

"I don't know", I say truthfully. "I hope I go where I'm needed most."

Suddenly Neville jerks up and looks at us, eyes wide.

"Where's Trevor?!"

I furrow my brow in confusion. Trevor? Who's Trevor.

"Who's Trevor", Hermione asks.

"My toad! I completely forgot that I let him out his cage for the train ride and now I can't find him anymore. Gran is going to kill me if I lose him."

Tears spring into the boys eyes and I wonder if I spoke to soon about the whole Gryffindor thing.

"We'll help you find him", I say and Hermione nods.

After a thorough search of the compartment one thing is clear: Trevor is not here. So we decide to branch out and go looking for him. Hermione and Neville head right, I head left. I knock on the next compartment door and slide it open.

"Excuse me, have any of you seen a toad?"

My question is answered with a burst of laughter.

"Oh look at that. The ghost girl has lost her toad."

I feel myself blush and turn towards the voice. It's the blonde boy from earlier.

"I'm not a ghost", I say, knowing fully well that that isn't the best comeback in the world.

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings. I shall cry you a river."

I clench my fists and ignore him, turning to the others. There are two rather large boys who don't look like they might be half-troll and a girl with black hair and a vaguely pig like face.

"Have any of you seen a toad? My friend seems to have lost his."

They all smirk as they shake their heads.

"Thanks", I say and close the compartment behind me. Only then do I let my anger show. Stupid brat! Who does he think he is? The Queen of England? I huff and stomp down the corridor to halfheartedly continue my search for Trevor. After what seems like too long to me I give up and return to my compartment. Hermione and Neville are back and he's holding Trevor in his hands, relief on his face.

"We found him."

Oh really? I hadn't noticed! I bit my tongue to keep myself from snapping at him. It's not his fault that I'm in a bad mood. No one can decide how you feel but you, my mother's voice sounds in my head and I take a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Guess who met?" Hermione asks excitedly and I give her a questioning look.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry Potter. I know the name of course, everyone does, but I'd always had an odd combination of feelings towards the boy who I'd heard so many stories about. The one who destroyed You-Know-Who. The wizarding world's hero. Somehow the story never filled me with awe, but with a deep sadness. I couldn't explain it.

"Oh cool. What's he like?" I hear myself ask.

"Nice I suppose. He didn't seem all that special to me, just like a normal elven-year old boy."

"Well he is just a normal elven-year old boy" I state wondering how this fact could have gone past that smart girl.

"Well of course", she says with a sigh, "But I've read so much about him. Did you know that there are thirty-seven theories about what happened that night? And none of them are conclusive."

I don't know why but this conversation makes me feel uncomfortable, as if she were speaking about a personal issue, which I know is ridiculous. So I just shrug and look out the window. The scenery is beautiful, lush and green and my mind begins to wander until I slowly drift off to sleep.

I am standing outside my house, it's burning and I know that my mother is still inside. I can hear her scream. I run, trying to get to her, but strong arms grab me, pull me back.

"Let me go!" I shout.

"It's too late", Draco says as he pulls me away from the flames. "You can't help her anymore. If you storm in there now all you'll do is die with her."

"I don't care! I have to save her!"

"Sarah wouldn't want you to die!"

And with those words he apparates, tearing me with him.

"No!", I gasp and sit up.

"Lisha? Are you alright?"

I look around in confusion. Where am I? Where is Draco? My mother! I have to… slowly the dream fades and I remember where I am. I'm on the Hogwarts express with Hermione and Neville.

"I had a bad dream.", I say weakly.

"What was it about", Neville asks innocently.

"I … I can't really remember. It's all fuzzy now. But it was horrible… I think, I think my house was on fire."

I shudder as I remember the cold horrible feeling of despair. Suddenly I have the urge to talk to my mother, to make sure she's alright. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and turn towards Hermione. She gives me a gentle smile.

"It was just a dream."

I smile back at her. She's right, it was just a dream, but somehow it didn't feel like a dream at all. The train gives off a loud whistle.

"We're here", Hermione shrieks and I find myself joining in with her excitement, my dream forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

The boat ride up to the castle passes in a blur. Hermoine, Neville and I all gape up at the great castle overhead, towering over us as we sail nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stands. We reach a kind of underground harbour and clamber out onto the rocks and pebbles. A loud voice startles me.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?", the large man who introduced himself as Hagrid says, holding a toad out to Neville.

"Trevor!", Neville cries blissfully as he holds out his hand. I chuckle, and wonder if perhaps the toad is trying to get away on purpose or if Neville truly is that forgetful. Hermione just shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. Neville comes up to us, tightly grasping his toad, and embarrassed flush in his cheeks.

"I'm sorry", he mumbles. I give him a pat on the shoulder.

"What are you apologizing to us for? That toad seems to be a sneaky one. Wouldn't be surprised if Trevor got sorted into Slytherin."

"They'll sort him too?", Neville asks with wide eyes, his voice almost panicky.

"Of course not, don't be silly", Hermione answers. "Lisha was just making a joke."

"Oh, ok."

Watching the blush on Nevilles cheeks deepen I sigh and wonder if my attempt to make him smile may have just embarrassed him further.

"Everyone here?", Hagrid calls making me jump again. I don't like loud noises. He looks at Neville and adds. *You there, still got yer toad?"

Neville just nods and Hagrid turns around, knocking three times on the castle door.

The door opens at once revealing a tall, black-haired woman in emerald-green robes. I look at her and am once again confronted with a feeling of familiarity, despite the fact that I have never seen this woman before. But I know her name. I don't know why, but I know that the woman standing in front of me is Minerva McConagall, has the animagus form of a cat and is a force to be reckoned with. That last part isn't too hard to figure out, her face is so stern that it leaves little doubt that she is not someone to be crossed.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall", Hagrid says and she nods

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulls the door wide and we get our first glance at the entrance hall. It is ginormous! Big enough to my room five times, maybe even more. But as I enter the castle for the first time I can't help but feel as if I've been here before. The other first years look around in awe, taking the high ceiling and the magnificent marble staircase leading to the upper floors and I try to be impressed as well. It is impressive, I know that, but I feel like I've seen it all before, often.

We follow Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor and I can hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right, indicating that the rest of the school is already here. I expect us to go through that door but instead we are lead into an empty chamber. Here we all crowd in standing closer together than I am comfortable with. I shift from foot to foot, trying to ignore that my shoulder is touching that of a boy I don't know. At least Neville is on left, I don't mind being so close to him. I look up as Professor McConagall starts speaking.

"Welcome to Hogwarts The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

She goes on to explain the four Houses, their names and history and how the house points work. I already know all of this from my mother of course, so I don't really pay attention.

"I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.", she finishes and I wonder what exactly she means by that. Are we supposed to have a last second make over? The boy next to me tries to flatten his messy hair with very little success. I don't know why he bothers, it looks fine to me. Then I notice the scar on his forehead and realize who it is. I'm standing shoulder to shoulder with Harry Potter. Hermione was right. He does look just like a normal eleven-year old boy. Actually he's a bit short for his age. He notices me staring and I blush giving him a quick smile before I turn away. He must think I'm so rude!

"I shall return when we are ready for you", Professor McGonagall says. "Please wait quietly."

Then she leaves the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" I hear Harry ask one of the other boys and I turn around, curious to hear the answer.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

I turn away, trying to hide my smirk. My mom has of course told me about the ceremony and that we just have to wear a hat, but she also mentioned that she was terrified before her sorting ceremony because her older sister had told her she needed to battle a griffin. As I turn towards Neville to tell him as much I see that he's gone all pale and looks about ready to pass out. I am about to tell him that it's nothing dangerous when people behind me start screaming.

I spin around, my mind suddenly cold and calm, ready to face whatever is coming, and relax when I see about twenty ghosts streaming through the back wall. They are pearly-white and transparent as the glide across the room talking to one another, not even glancing at us.

"Aren't you going to join your friends?", a voice behind me snarls and I blush as I turn around.

It's the blonde boy from the train, standing in between two troll-like boys that were in the compartment with him. Before I have to change to tell him to stuff it where the sun doesn't shine, McGonagall returns and tells us to follow her into the Great Hall.

I hear and see the other around me expressing their awe as they enter the hall, which is lit by thousands and thousands of candles floating in midair over four long tables, where the other students are sitting, but I, once again, cannot help but feel as if this is nothing new, as if I've been here countless times before. I feel a pang of disappointment. I wish I were as awed as all the others. Hermione leans towards me and whispers, "The ceiling is bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

I just nod, not sure what else to do, but she seems to be satisfied with my response. I look to the front just as Professor McGonagall places a stool with a pointed wizard's hat in front of us. The hat is patched and frayed and extremely dirty and I wrinkle my nose at the thought of having that thing on my head. I really hope none of the kids here have head lice. The hat twitches and a rip near the rim opens wide like a mouth, then it begins to sing. The hat sings about the four different houses and adds in a little bit of self-flattery. Once it's done the whole hall bursts into applause and the hat bows to each of the four tables.

"So we've just got to try on the hat! I'll kill Fred, he was going n about wrestling a troll!", the boy to Harry's right, the one with the red hair, whispers in a fairly loud voice. I chuckle again and he looks over at me, his face blushing as red as his hair.

"My mom thought she'd have to battle a griffin", I whisper back and he gives me a shy smile.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted" Professor McGonagall says, holding a long roll of parchment in her hands. And so the sorting begins and I can't get over the feeling that I've been through this all before. As the names are slowly read and the students are sorted one by one I keep wondering where I'll go. Despite what I may have said on the train I already have a pretty good idea where the hat will put me. I clap as both Hermione and Neville are placed in Gryffindor, just as I thought they would be and then, finally, it's my turn.

"Morgan, Alicia!" Professor McGonagall shouts and I feel my feet move towards the stool. I turn around, facing the crowd watching and sit down. Then the hat is upon my head and I wait.

"Hmm", a voice says in my ear and I jump a little bit. "Worried about lice are we? I can promise you you're safe where that is concerned. But sorting you on the other hand. Well… that seems to be a challenge as you seem to have been sorted before."

"I've been sorted before?" I ask in surprise, wondering whatever the hat could mean. I've just turned elven so how can I have been sorted before. Still…the words don't seem wrong.

"That's because they aren't. You have been sorted before, but that was a different you, wasn't it? Difficult indeed."

A different me?

"Ah yes. You don't know, of course. And I must say how could you. By all means it is impossible. But where to put you…. Slytherin… well there are reasons for it, but I don't think that option suits you any longer. Not this time. Hufflepuff… well you have compassion to spare and you are loyal. Loyal to a fault, but you long for more. You are ambitious, want to change the world and truly believe you can…. That would be another point for Slytherin."

I am getting worried now. My two options seem to be between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, both not my first choices and not what I expected.

"I'm not done little one! Both those houses would be fine choices, but they are not your only ones. You have a wisdom beyond your physical years, and a thirst for knowledge, which means that Ravenclaw could be a great home to you… Ah! I see… well this is fascinating! "

"What? What is fascinating?", I think as loudly as I can, but the hat ignores me.

"Yes I suppose it must be this way."

I am growing frustrated. The hat hasn't said anything conclusive yet and I feel like I've been sitting here for hours.

"GRYFFINDOR!", it shouts loudly and the hat is lifted from my head. I get up stiffly, feeling utterly confused and oddly uncomfortable as I head towards the Gryffindor table, all of them clapping enthusiastically as I join them. I slide onto the bench in between Hermione and Neville who both congratulate me, but I can barely hear them. My thoughts are still lingering on the conversation I had with the hat when Harry Potter's name is called and the hall is suddenly completely silent. I look up, pulled from my thoughts and look to the chair. The hat seems to be taking a long time and I wonder if it took this long with me. Finally the hat shouts that Harry is a Gryffindor and our entire table bursts into applause as the relieved looking boy heads over and sits down across from me. Our eyes meet and for the tiniest of moments I feel like I'm remembering something, something important, then he turns back to the front and the moment is gone.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur as the rest of the first years are sorted and the feast officially begins. Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster gives a few words of caution which I barely hear. My mind is on the sorting and the boy sitting across from me. I don't know why, but as I look at him I get the odd feeling that he shouldn't be here and that things aren't happening as they once did. I try to get rid of the thought but for the rest of the night I can't shake the uneasy feeling that something is terribly wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

It's 5.00 am, too early for anyone to be awake yet. Anyone but me that is. I barely slept all night, too excited about the next day. But it's not just the excitement that kept me awake… It's also fear. Whenever I feel strong emotions before I go to bed the dreams come and so it was last night. As soon as my eyes were closed and I'd drifted off to sleep they started. I think back on the last dream I remember.

In it this dream I'm at Hogwarts and I'm in the common room, but it's different. Instead of big comfortable armchairs there are high-backed chairs and the mantelpiece is elaborately carved. The light is different too, somehow less natural, but I don't dislike it. It's been my home for six years now. I am sitting on the thick velvet carpet, my head leaning against Draco's chest as he absentmindedly plays with my hair, a book in his other hand. I feel content here, surrounded by friends and enemies alike. It's always this way. Draco and I and a handful of others in this room are playing our roles splendidly. We have to, to survive. One false word about The Dark Lords, one tiny mistake and we end up in the camps. The camps reserved for traitors, for those who oppose the "proper view." I turn around and look up at Drace, watch his concentrated face completely engrossed in his book.

"Draco?"

He looks down at me and smiles, those gorgeous blue eyes lighting up.

"Hmm?"

"Can we get out of here?", I ask, a mischievous glint in my eyes that quickly finds its way into his.

"Well Lisha, it is after curfew and I am a prefect, so I do not think that I could condone this sort of behaviour", he says puffing up his chest in his best attempt to sound important.

"Hmm…is that so? And is there no ways that such an honourable prefect, such as yourself, could be persuaded?"

"Well.. perhaps a kiss?"

He makes a kissy face and leans down towards me, making exaggerated smooching noises. I back away laughing, my hands on his chest to keep him from getting to me.

"Get a room you two!", Miranda calls from one of the chairs and we both start laughing.

"We just might", Draco says as he gets up, holding out his hand to help be up."

We are both laughing as we exit the common room.

I can't always remember my dreams clearly and very often the faces are blurry afterwards, mere shadows of what they were, but this time I remember Draco's face clearly and that's what kept me up all night. The blonde boy from the train. The rude, arrogant prat that keeps calling me a ghost. He and the Draco from my dreams are the same person, but not… They can't be. The Draco in my dreams is… kind, gentle, cunning, brilliant. The blonde boy is a rude little brat! But I know, as I always do, that this dream holds some kind of meaning. I sigh and get out of bed. There is no point trying to go back to sleep now, everyone will be getting up soon anyways, and so I get dressed and head down to the common room. It is completely abandoned and I head to one of the big window alcoves to watch the sun rise.

Soon the rest of the Gryffindor's start to stir and it doesn't take long for Hermione to come and find me sitting by the window.

"Lisha! I was really worried when I woke up and you weren't there."

I try not to get annoyed at her tone of voice, because I now she means well. She's just so…bossy! But she seems to have decided that we are friends now and I don't really mind.

"Woke up early, so I came and watched the sunrise."

"Well we should head down for breakfast. We don't want to be late, now do we?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Neville?" I ask, but as soon as the question is out of my mouth he comes out of the boy's dormitory, his eyes still half shut. He walks right past us, obviously still half asleep and I get up to follow him.

"Good morning Neville", I say cheerfully and watch him jump.

"Goo..goo..good morning Alicia." He stutters. "Aa..and Hermione."

"Good morning Neville", Hermione says as she ushers us out the door.

Breakfast is delicious and I, who love food more than anything in the world except for my mother and sometimes sleep, fill up my plate as much as possible. Once I realize that the food just keeps coming I take it a little bit more slowly.

"You… eat a lot."

Hermione states, a disapproving expression on her face. I look up at her, half a piece of bacon hanging out of my mouth and nod. Then I return my full attention to my plate. I hear a chuckle to my left and turn around to see a redheaded boy with a plate just as full as mine.

"What?", I ask, feeling defensive.

"Nothing", he laughs. "Just that I've never seen a girl with such an appetite before. I like it."

He grins at me and I grin back. Then we both return to our plates.

The first class of the day is transfiguration, which is taught by Professor McGonagall, and I am really looking forward to it. I love the idea of being able to transform anything. Mainly because I hate the fact that I'm an albino. My mother always tells me to just love myself the way I am, but that's easy for someone as beautiful as her to say. She doesn't get compared to a ghost at every turn.

So I'm sitting straight in Transfiguration, trying to soak up as much knowledge as possible. The only student more attentive than me, if that's even possible, is Hermione.

"Transfiguration", McGonagall begins, "is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changes her desk into a pig and back again and I gape at her. Now I'm her fan for life, and I can tell, by looking around, that I'm not the only one. Soon though it becomes clear that we are still a far way off from turning our own tables into pigs. The first class is spent mainly by us taking complicated notes and then we're each given a match and told to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson only Hermione and I have accomplished anything at all. Her match is all silver and pointy and mine, although still made of wood, has taken on the shape of a needle. Professor McGonagall gives both of us a small smile, which I somehow know to be a rare thing.

The next class, and the one I worried about the most, is Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I quickly realize that I worried for nothing. Professor Quirrell, a talk, scrawny and very odd guy with a turban, seems to be a bit of a joke. I wrinkle my nose at the strong smell of garlic that fill his classroom. I like garlic, I really do, it improves a lot of food, but that doesn't mean that I necessarily want to smell like it myself. I try to give the stuttering man a chance, but when Seamus Finnigan, a fellow Gryffindor, asks him how Quirell fought off the Zombie for which the ugly turban was supposed to be payment, he turns pink and starts talking about the weather.

The rest of the week is equally uneventful and I'm starting to feel disappointed. A lot of the things we looked at this week are things I've already gone over with my mother or my tutors at home and I'm starting to feel like the whole first year may be a waste of my time. On the upside the reoccurring feeling that something is not as it should be is starting to fade and by Friday I've forgotten all about it.

Friday morning, sitting at the table I look at my schedule. We have Double Potions with the Slytherins and I feel my chest tighten. I've been avoiding Draco Malfoy all week, ever since I had that dream, which is easy to do since we're in different houses and Gryffindor and Slytherin don't interact much, but now I'll be in a classroom with him. I am still very confused when it comes to Draco. There is the part of me who thinks he's an annoying brat and wants nothing to do with him. Then there's the part of me that wants to know if there is something to that dream I had. I felt so… happy in that dream. Happy and in love. I know it's weird but… well I feel like this is not something I can ignore. But I don't know how. Draco seems to be intent on making fun of me as much as he can and I don't see how this rude arrogant boy could turn into that kind young man of my dream.

"Lisha! Are you even listening?"

I look up at Hermione.

"Huh?"

She sighs and looks over at Neville who just shrugs and gives me a small smile. Neville it seems does not like conflict.

"I asked", she says pointedly giving me a stern look "if you've already done your homework for Monday and, if not as I assume is the case, you would like to go over it tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"So?"

I look at her with confusion. What does she mean by so?

"I don't do work on Saturdays."

"Well with that attitude you're not going to get very far now are you."

I stare at her in disbelief. I don't care that she loves to study, good for her, but why does that mean that I have to be like that too? I'm about to snap at her when Neville interrupts in a moment of brief bravery.

"Www ..we should go to class", and despite the fact that it's a bit too early I nod and pack my bag, trying to swallow my annoyance with Hermione. She means well, I tell myself, but somehow the mantra isn't working this time. She's been getting on my case about homework all week and more than once I almost told her that if I wanted my mother to look over my shoulder I would have brought her along. But I hold my tongue.

Potions lessons take place in one of the dungeons and it's quite cold down here. The pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls give the classroom a rather creepy feel and I wonder what the teacher must be like. I've seen him before, of course, Professor Snape, sitting at the teachers table but I haven't really paid attention to him before now. However, as he enters the room, I am suddenly overtaken by an overwhelming feeling of dislike. No, more than dislike. I hate this man, and I don't know why. I have never hated anyone before, but this man, the man standing in front of the class room taking roll call, makes me want to gauge his eyes out. Then, just as sudden as the sensation came it is gone and I feel nothing at all for the potions professor. The experience is so disturbing that I barely register him calling my name.

"Alicia Morgan."

Why did I feel that way? Where did that come from`?

"Alicia Morgan."

Hermione elbows me and I look up startled.

"Here, sir."

He gives me a cold look out of black eyes and I feel that anger bubbling up inside of me again. I quickly shove it down, trying to replace it with rational feelings such as nervousness at being here. Professor Snape frowns, just the tiniest little bit, as if confused, and continues with his list.

"Ah, yes," he says softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."

The way he says it leaves little doubt that he is not overly fond of celebrities. Or Harry Potter for that matter. Draco and his troll snigger and I turn around to glare at them, but they ignore me. The professor finishes calling names and looks up at the class. His black eyes are cold and empty and make me think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking", he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, but we catch every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as bit a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

His words make me shudder. Not because he called us dunderheads, although I do think that that's kinda rude, but because of the implications those potions have. There is silence in the class room and I glance over at Hermione, on the edge of her seat. She's probably desperate to prove that she's not a dunderhead, I think.

"Potter!" the professor says suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's expression states very clearly that he has no clue what half of those words mean and I feel bad for him. Not that I know much more. I've gone over some basic potions with my tutor of course, but this sounds fairly advance. Which makes me wonder why the professor would be asking any of us such a difficult question. No one would know. Well… no one besides Hermione, whose hand hit the air as soon as the words had stopped coming out of the professor's mouth.

"I don't know, sir," Harry replies.

The potion professor's lips curl into a sneer and that strange rage starts again, somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar."

This one I know as well, but, seeing how Snape was bent on ignoring Hermione's outstretched hand, refrain from raising my own. Malfoy and the trolls, which would make an excellent band name in my opinion, snigger again and I can tell Harry's starting to feel really uncomfortable. I on the other hand am, once again, battling with the anger inside.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape says, still ignoring Hermione's hand. I nudge her, trying to get her to take it down, but she ignores me in return.

What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know sir", Harry starts but before he or Snape can say more I suddenly hear myself speaking, driving by the irrational anger clawing at my chest.

"Why don't you ask Hermione, Professor? She seems to know."

Both Harry and Snape look at me, Harry with surprise and relief, Snape with…something else. I feel myself blush in shame. I don't do these things. I don't interrupt teachers and I'm never rude, but there is a part of me that is glad that I said those words.

"Do not interrupt again Miss Morgan, five points from Gryffindor. And you" he snapped at Hermione, "Sit down. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There is a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment as we start writing it all down. Over the hnoise, snape says, "And Miss Morgan, come to me after class."

I feel my hands go cold at those words but simply nod. Things don't improve after that. Snape puts us all into pairs and tells us to mix up a simple potions to cure boils. I've done this potion before, but I'm still distracted by the conflicting emotions running through me. I don't have a reason to hate my potions professor, although he does seem to be rather biased when it comes to Harry Potter, but that has nothing to do with me. So why do I? It's the same thing that I've been experiencing ever since I've come to Hogwarts. I feel things for people I don't know and know things about the castle I shouldn't know. Even when every single first year student got lost at least once on their way to class, I don't. I know exactly where to go, but I shouldn't. I have never been here before. Or have I. My mind isn't even remotely concentrating on the potion in front of me and I barely hear Snape criticizing it as he passes by or as he tells us all to look at the perfect way Draco has stewed his horned slugs.

By the end of the class mine and Hermione's potion isn't the worst though, only thanks to her, I'm sure, as Neville seems to have managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, with their potion seeping across the stone floor, burning a hole in my shoe. This snaps me out of my thoughts and I jump on the nearest stool while Neville, who's drenched in the potion moans in pain as angry boils spring up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!", Snape snarls, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his hand. "Take him to the hospital wing", he snaps at Seamus then he rounds on Harry and accuses him of having had something to do with it, taking a point from Gryffindor.

Harry opens his mouth to argue, but Ron kicks him behind the cauldron and he stops. Again I feel anger boil inside me and I dig my nails into my arm to keep a clear head and myself from saying something else I'd regret. Snape dismisses the class and soon it's just the two of us in the dungeon. He walks over to his desk and sits down.

"Come here Miss Morgan", he says and I'm surprised at how different his voice is. It's still cold, but it sounds a lot less hostile than it did during the lesson. I step up to the desk.

"Professor…I wanted to apologize. I don't usually interrupt…"

"Stop rambling. I have taken points from you and that's the end of that, although I appreciate your apology. I do not tolerate disrespect in my classes Miss Morgan."

I nod, not knowing what else to do.

"Do not simply nod at me. Make full sentences."

"Yes, sir."

"How is your mother?"

The question takes me by surprise. Why would he want to know how my mother was?

"She is well, thank you", I say, wondering where he going with this.

"Give her my regards", he says and dismisses me.

I walk out of that dungeon more confused than ever. I half-expected Hermione to be waiting outside, but the hallways is empty. I ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment and decide to go to the hospital wing to see how Neville is doing.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

It's Saturday morning, my favourite day of the week because I can sleep in, and I'm wide awake. At 4 am. I don't know what's wrong with me, but the dreams won't let me go and they don't leave me anymore. Before I came to Hogwarts the dreams would fade quickly, leaving nothing behind but a distant feeling, but now? Now they last long into the day, sometimes more vivid than reality. Many of them are about the other Draco, as I call him, some are about people here at school with me and then there are some about people I don't even know. I am always older in these dreams, either in my later teens or in my twenties. Sometimes I'm even a grown woman. Those are the worst. The adult me doesn't feel much in the range of positive emotions. I shudder as I think back to my last dream. In it I was on a battlefield, surrounded by corpses, friend and foe alike. It's just me. Everyone else is either dead or gone, but I am there kneeling in blood, cradling the head of a young woman with blonde hair, sobs shaking my body. Her eyes look up at me, empty, lifeless and strangely innocent.

I shake my head, trying to escape the image but it clings to me, growing sharper instead of fading away and I am beginning to think that something is seriously wrong with me. Quietly, as not to disturb my roommates, I slide out of bed and get dressed into a pair of black training shoes, a black t-shirt and running shoes. On my way to the door I hit my toe on a trunk and supress a cuss. Hermione grunts and turns over in her sleep but does not wake up. None of the other girls seem to have even noticed anything at all. I continue down into the common room which feels oddly confining somehow. I know it's technically still curfew, but I need to move. It's what I used to do at home. Whenever the dreams got too much I would go for a run until I could no longer feel them breathing down my back. I exit through the portrait hole, ignoring the fat ladies protest and quietly make my way down to an exit. At this hour I don't think I'm in danger of getting caught and being reprimanded too badly. It is morning after all.

The air feels cold and fresh against my skin and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. My head feels clearer already. Then those big blue eyes stare back up at me and I feel as if my heart is being squeezed into a pulp. I start at a slow pace, heading for the lake, but those dead eyes follow me. So I speed up. Soon I am running, sprinting as fast as I can, ignoring the pain in my legs, my lungs. I'm running as fast as I can desperate to leave those eyes behind me. Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I finally collapse next to the lake, gasping for breath. The sun is starting to rise and I lean against a boulder, watching it colour the lake in different shades of red and gold. Those rays of sunlight do what my run could not, easing some of the pain in my chest.

As I get up and turn towards the castle I am surprised to find that I am not as alone as I thought I was. Draco is standing there, looking at me, his face unreadable. I brace myself, ready for his insults and slams, but something in his face is different.

"Hello", I say shyly, feeling utterly uncomfortable.

"What are you doing here?"

"I… went for a run and then I decided to watch the sunrise."

His blue eyes are staring down at me and I shift uncomfortably. Can one still see the tear tracks on my cheeks.

"Do you always run like that?"

"Run like what?", I ask defensively.

"Like something's chasing you."

I don't know what to say to that. So I say nothing as I look at him, my chin out, ready to ward off all and any insults coming my way. He holds my gaze then he blushes and looks away.

"What are you doing here?", I ask, curious to know why he's up this early.

"Needed to think…."

I don't think he meant to say that, but it slipped out. Now he looks as if he's embarrassed.

"it's a good place to think"

I smile at him and he timidly smiles back. There is no arrogance in this smile, no annoying superiority, just an elven year old boy smiling at me. I think I like this version of Draco.

"Can I ask you something?"

I nod.

"Why are you so pale? I mean…. You have white hair."

I feel myself tense up again. I hate talking about this and I think he can tell because he's looking at the ground again. I sigh and remember my mother telling me that patience is the best key to acceptance.

"I'm an albino. That means that I have very little colour pigments in my skin and hair. I'm lucky actually," I add. "I could have red eyes too…."

He looks up, his eyes wide.

"Really? That'd be wicked!"

I scowl.

"Not if people call you a ghost or demon all the time."

He looks embarrassed again and plays with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm sorry about that…. I've just never seen anyone like you before."

"It's ok", although it's not and I'm still cross about it.

"Shall we head in for breakfast?", I ask him and surprise crosses his face.

"Together?"

He asks the question as if I'd just proposed kissing Llama's.

"Well yeah. Why not?"

"You're a Gryffindor."

"So?"

"I'm Slytherin. Gryffindor's and Slytherin's don't spend time together."

He says this with so much conviction that I can barely believe my ears.

"Well that's a stupid rule. And I don't think it's true. My mom was a Slytherin and my dad was a Gryffindor and they got along just fine."

He looks at me in disbelief.

"You're mother married a Gryffindor?"

Now I'm starting to feel annoyed.

"Yes she did and they were happy. But if you wanna be a brat about it then fine. I'm going to get breakfast now."

With that I start walking towards the castle leaving Draco behind. It doesn't take long for him to catch up with me and the two of us walk back together in companionable silence. Right before we reach the Great Hall he steps aside and pretends to look at the four hourglasses. I roll my eyes and enter the hall that's still pretty empty except for a few of the older students and, to my surprise, Hermione.

"Lisha!" she calls as she spots me. I walk over and take a seat across from her.

"Where were you this morning?"

"I went for a run."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Draco enter the Great Hall the arrogant sneer plastered onto his face as he sits down next to his goonies. His eyes wander over the hall and catch mine for a second. I raise my hand to wave, but then he looks away and I frown.

"You run this early on Satruday mornings? I must say I'm surprised. The first couple of mornings I barely managed to get you out of bed and now you're up before me. It's a smart move though, seeing as how physical education is largely ignore here. As far as sports go they only have Quidditch, which I've read loads about and I must say, the game doesn't appeal to me. I'm not so great with hights, you know, so a game played on broomsticks seems rather scary to me. Do you play Quidditch?"

I've gotten so used to her monologues that I barely registered the question at the end of this one.

"Hmm?", I ask, my mouth full of hash browns. She sighs and repeats the question.

"Yeah I play Quiddtich. I'm not really good but it's fun. My mom was her house seeker in her fifth to seventh year", I add. Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's read haired side kick, and Harry plop down next to us, sleep still in their eye.

"Really? What house was she in?"

"My mom? She was in Slytherin", I say not thinking about it too much.

"No way!", Ron exclaims, his eyes wide. "Then why are you in Gryffindor."

"Ron!" Hermione scolds.

"What does that have to do with anything?", I ask, feeling a bit put out by the comment.

"Well… Slytherin's are evil, and Gryffindor's are good. Everyone knows that."

I can hardly believe my ears.

"That's the dumbest thing I have ever heard! My mother is the kindest person on the planet! She is not evil!"

I nearly shout the last part, glaring at Ron over the table. Ron opens his mouth to say something else, but Harry kicks him under the table and he grunts in pain instead.

"What was that for?"

"Did you see the notice in the common room? About Quidditch?"

Ron, who is rubbing his shin doesn't seem to notice that Harry is deliberately changing the subject and jumps onto the band wagon. Apparently we have Quidditch practice next Thursday together with the Slytherins. I glare over at Ron as he makes a disgruntled noise at this but he doesn't notice and soon the conversation drifts of to different subjects. I am still feeling a bit cross about Ron's dumb comment. How can anyone be so narrow minded? But over the next week I am to learn that Ron is not the only one with that point of view. My first hint should have been Draco refusing to enter the Great Hall with me, but I've grown up with an incredibly tolerant mother, a mother whose only intolerance was for intolerance, and so I'm not used to this way of thinking. This black and white painting of the world.

The next couple of days are filled with Ron, Harry and Neville fretting about the upcoming Quidditch class and Hermione and I trying to ignore them. I know that I can ride a broom, so I'm not worried about the first class. I'm not an excellent player, but a decent flyer. On Thursday morning however it becomes clear that Hermione is a lot more nervous than she let on before. Quidditch is not something that she can learn by heart out of a book, but she seems to have tried anyways. She is bombarding us with stupid flying tips she's gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages as we're trying to eat our breakfast. Ron, Harry and I are doing our best to ignore it, but Neville is eagerly hanging on her every word, desperate for anything that might help him on to his broomstick later. He has never been on a broomstick in his life, because his gran doesn't let him near one. It sounds kind of harsh but having experienced Neville's knack for injuring himself, I think I see her point. Finally the mail arrives, interrupting Hermione's lecture.

A big brown owl, Laura, drops a letter from my mom in my lap and I eagerly open it. It's the typical mother stuff but I couldn't be happier. I miss my mother. A barn owl drops a small package in front of Neville and he opens it excitedly showing us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which is full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!", he explains. "Gran knows I forget tings – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh…" His face falls, because the Remembrall suddenly glowed scarlet, " … you've forgotten something…"

I smile and return to my breakfast as Neville tries to remember what he's forgotten. Suddenly Harry and Ron jump to their feet and I look up to see Draco holding Neville's Remembrall. I frown at him, but before I can open my mouth to ask him to give it back Professor McGonagall, who can spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, is already here.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Draco quickly drops the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking,", he says and slopes away with his two loyal trolls. I frown as I watch them go and wonder about the two faces of Draco Malfoy.

At three-thirty that afternoon all of the Gryffindor first-years hurry down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson. It is a clear, breezy day, and the grass ripples under our feet as we march down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees are swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins are already here, and so are twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. As I look at the brooms I can tell that they've seen better days. Probably a century ago.

Our teacher, Madame Hooch, arrives. She has short, gray hair and her yellow eyes remind me of hawk.

"Well, what are you waiting for?", she barks. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I glance down at my broom which looks like it might have, at some point, served as a giant's toilet brush.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch calls at the front, "and say Up!"

"UP!" everyone shouts and my broom jumps into my hand at once. I look around that Harry and Draco are the only other ones whose brooms have done as they were told. Hermione's has simply rolled over and Neville's hasn't moved at all. I can tell that Neville is too afraid to give it a proper try and supress a sigh.

Once everyone has their brooms in their hands Madame Hooch shows us how to mount them without sliding off the end, an incredibly boring exercise for someone like me, whose already been flying for years. But I count myself lucky as Madame Hooch informs Draco that he's been doing it wrong for years. I almost expect her to come and tell me the same, but she just gives me an approving smile and I feel myself blush.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly."

It sounds like a piece of cake.

"On my whistle – three- two- "

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and very obviously terrified of being left on the ground, pushes off hard before the whistle even touches Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouts uselessly, but Neville is rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. I feel panic rise in my chest as I watch my frightened friend rise into the sky. He looks down at the ground and gasps. Then he slips sideways of the broom and - WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville is facedown on the grass. His broomstick continues to rise on its own, heading towards the forbidden forest as I sprint to Neville's side. Madam Hooch bends over Neville, her face almost as white as his. Then she lets out a sigh of relief.

"Broken wrist", she mutters. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

As she starts leading Neville away she turns around to the rest of us.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch. Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear- streaked, clutches his wrist and hobbles off with Madam Hooch. No sooner are they out of earshot than I hear Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The Slytherins start laughing as well but I spin around, and glare at him, anger boiling within me.

"Shut up Malfoy!", I snap, surprising him. His eyes widen for a moment then the arrogant sneer is back.

"Ooh, sticking up for your boyfriend?", Pansy Parkinson, the girl with the pig snout asks.

Malfoy chuckles.

"The ghost and the cry baby, what a wonderful combination."

I glare at him, too angry for words. Just a few days ago he apologized for the whole ghost comment and now here he is, doing it all over again. The feelings inside of me are hard to describe, but one of them stands out clearly. Disappointment.

"Look!", Malfoy says, unaware of my inner turmoil. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

In his hand he is holding the Rememberall.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harry and I say at the same time. Everyone stops talking to watch. Malfoy glances at me and turns toward Harry.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yell, but Malfoy has already leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak tree he calls down.

"Come and get it Potter!"

Harry grabs his broom.

"No!", Hermione shouts as she puts her hand on Harry's broom. *Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all in trouble."

"Let him go Hermione", I hear myself say as I pull her hand from Harry's broom. She turns toward me, anger in her eyes but something in my face makes her stop short and that moment is all it takes for Harry to mount the broom and kick off hard. Up, up, up he goes and I watch in awe as the boy, who claims to never have been on a broom before, soars through the sky, his robes whipping out behind him. His face splits into a smile and I can tell that Harry's in his element. He pulls his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and the girls next to me scream and gasp as Ron lets out an admiring whoop. I almost join him. My fingers start itching for my broom and suddenly I'm in the air too. Together Harry and I face Malfoy who looks completely stunned.

"Give it here, " Harry calls, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"And I'll help him", I add glaring at the blonde boy.

"Oh, yeah?", Malfoy says, trying to sneer, but he looks worried.

Harry leans forward and shoots toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy moves out of the way but there I am, blocking his way of escape. Harry makes a sharp about-face and holds his broom steady. I hear people clapping below.

"No trolls up here to back you up, Malfoy", Harry calls, a thought that seems to have occurred to Malfoy as well.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouts and, before I get to him, throws the glass ball high into the air. I watch the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. I know I can't catch it, I'm no good as a seeker, but Harry leans forward instantly, pointing his broom handle down. The next second he is gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball. A foot from the ground he catches it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and then he topples gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist while I'm still hanging in the air like an idiot.

"HARRY POTTER! ALICIA MORGAN!"

I feel my heart sink as I look down and see Professor McGonagall running towards the group. Quickly I make my way to the ground, ready to plead for my stay at Hogwarts.

"Never – in all my time at Hogwart –"

Professor McGonagall seems to be speechless with shock, and her glasses flash furiously as she glares down on the two of us. " – how dare you – might have broken your necks – "

"It wasn't their fault, Professor –"

"Be quiet, Mr Weasley – "

"But Malfoy – "

"That's enough! Potter, Morgan, follow me, now."

I catch sight of Malfoy and his trolls triumphant faces as they watch us follow Professor McGonagall into the castle. We are going to be expelled…. I can't believe it. My mother is going to kill me! I glance over at Harry, but he's staring at his feet, his expression unreadable. Suddenly Professor McGonagall stops outside a classroom. She opens the door and pokes her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? I wonder if she's going to hit us with it when the door opens and a boy comes out, looking confused.

"Follow me, you three," Professor McGonagall says, and we march up the corrodor, Wood looking curiously at the two of us.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pints us into an empty classroom.

"This is Olivier Wood. Wood" she points at Harry " I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changes from puzzlement to delight while my jaw drops. McGonagall goes on to describe how Harry caught the Remembrall and gushing about how amazing the catch was. It truly was amazing, but I'm beginning to wonder what on earth I'm still doing here. Suddenly Professor McGonagall seems to remember me and turns towards me.

"Ah yes. Miss Morgan. I don't know what you were doing up there in the air and I don't even want to know. Seeing as I am not punishing , I can hardly punish you, but I do hope that I never catch you doing something that reckless again. Are we understood?"

I nod, feeling a bit jealous of Harry. We did the same thing but he gets to be the youngest seeker in like forever while I get reprimanded. Then again it could be worse, so I decide to count my blessings.

"I'll be careful from now on. I promise. May I go?"

During dinnertime all anyone talks about is how Harry is the youngest seeker in a century and how amazing it all is. I try to be happy for him, but I can't quite supress the jealousy that's still sitting in my chest telling me how unfair it all is. But there is something else on my mind.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

I look up at Malfoy, flanked by his pet trolls. He is pointedly ignoring me, not even mentioning the fact that I too could have been expelled. I feel that familiar disappointment in my chest and look down at my food to hide the tears that are suddenly in my eyes. Stupid Lish, I tell myself, but I can't help it. I'm confused. I don't understand how the person in my dreams, the person I met on Saturday morning by the lake and this arrogant brat can be the same person. Suddenly I no longer feel like eating. I leave my plate unfinished, and, ignoring both Neville and Hermione's stares, make my way up to the common room.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

I am already in bed, pretending to sleep when Hermione comes in. She whispers my name but I ignore her, hoping she'll just go away. I don't want to talk, not to anyone. Not until I've sorted out what's going on. I have so many conflicting impressions and feelings that I feel like I'm going to explode. The potions professor for example. He was harsh towards Harry during class, but when he spoke to me after he seemed alright. I had no reason to properly dislike him, but I do. Or a part of me does. It is that part that scares me beyond belief. I feel like I'm sharing my emotions with a stranger. A stranger that hates the potions professor, admires Neville and has a very odd combination of feelings concerning Draco Malfoy.

Hermione leaves the room again and I glance at the clock. It's 11.30. Why isn't she in bed already? She's not one to break the rules and she hates being tired for class. I battle with myself for a couple minutes then I get up as well, slipping into my green trainers, and head down to the common room. I stop on the stairs as I hear voices.

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

It is Hermione and she's talking to Harry and Ron who look like they're about to leave through the portrait hole.

"You!", Ron says furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy – he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

I roll my eyes and come down the last couple of stairs.

"What's going on?" I ask and the three of them spin around towards me.

"These two idiots have gotten it into their minds to have a midnight duel with Malfoy, if you can believe it!"

I look over at the two boys in disbelief.

"Seriously?"

"It's none of your business", Ron snaps, but Harry puts a hand on his arm.

"Uhm I forgot to say thank you, for earlier."

I give him a small smile and nod.

"No problem. Neville's my friend."

Harry turns to Ron "Come on", he pushes open the portrait of the fat Lady and they climb through the hole. I think they're being stupid, but I don't care enough to go after them. That is until I see Hermione, who obviously doesn't give up easily follow them through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switzing Spells."

I sigh and decide to follow Hermione to get her to come back inside, closing the portrait hole behind me so our voices don't carry up and wake up even more people.

"Go away" Ron mutters to the two of us and I frown at him.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so –"

"Uhm Hermione?"

She turns towards me.

"What?"

I point at the portrait of the Fat Lady, or rather the portrait that usually contains the Fat Lady, but is now empty. She must have gone on a nightime visit and Hermione and I are locked out.

"Now what do we do?" Hermione asks shrilly.

"That's you're problem," Ron says. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They start down the corridor and Hermione, after a last glance at the empty portrait follows them, dragging me along.

"We're coming with you," she says.

"You are not!"

"D'you think we're going to stand out there and wait for Filch to catch us? If he finds all four of us I'll tell him the truth, that we were trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

The last comment is directed at me and I just shrug as Ron glares at me. I really regret having gotten out of bed at all and wish Hermione would let go of my arm so I can just sit in front of the portrait, waiting for the Fat Lady to return.

"You've got some nerve-"Ron starts loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!", Harry sys sharply. "I hear something."

As the two bickerheads shut up I listen and now I hear it too. It's some sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?", Ron breathes, squinting through the dark.

It's not Mrs. Norris. It's Neville. He's curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerks suddenly awake as we creep nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get into bed."

I supress a sigh and help Neville to his feet.

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's Pig Snout, but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"Oh", he says looking dejected and I give his hand a quick squeeze.

"If it makes you feel better, we're all stuck out here."

"Speaking off – well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later –" Harry starts.

"Don't leave me!" Neville says, sounding almost panicked. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looks at his watch and then glares furiously at Neville, Hermione and me.

"If any of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirell told us about, and use it on you."

I open my mouth to tell Ron that I don't even want to be here in the first place, but Harry hisses at me to be quiet and beckons us all forward. We flit along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn I expect to run into Filch, , or a teacher but we seem to have an abundance of dumb luck tonight. We speed up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoe toward the trophy room.

I'm a bit nervous about seeing Malfoy, my feelings still a weird tumble, but he isn't here yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmer where the moonlight catches them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues wink silver and gold in the darkness. We edge along the walls, keeping our eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry takes out his wand and I wonder what exactly he means to do with it. He's been doing magic for what? Two weeks? The minutes creep by and no one comes.

"Maybe he's chickened out", Ron whispers.

There's a oise in the next room, making us jump. Harry raises his wan a little higher when we hear someone speak and it is not Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It is Filch speaking to his zombie cat, Mrs. Norris. Harry, looking terrified, waves madly at us to follow him as quickly as possible. We scurry silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. I'm barely around the corner when we hear Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," he mutters, "probably hiding."

"This way!", I mouth to the others and, petrified, we begin to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. I can hear Filch getting nearer and Neville lets out a frightened squeak, breaking into a run – he trips, grabs Ron around the waist, and the pair of them topple right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing is probably enough to wake up the whole castle. I stare at the two dunderheads in disbelief.

"RUN!" Harry shouts, and the five of us sprint down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch is following – we swing around the doorpost and gallop down one corridor after another, harry in the lead, without any idea where we're going. We rip through a tapestry an find ourselves in a hidden passageway. We hurtle along it and come out near our Charms classroom, which I know to be miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry pnts, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville is bent double, wheezing and spluttering, and I don't feel much better myself. My heart is pounding in my ears and I feel like throwing up.

"I – told – you," Hermione gasps, clutching at her chest, "I – told – you!"

I agree with her, but at the same time I feel annoyed because the only reason I'm here at all is because she dragged me along.

"We've got to get back to the Gryffindor tower", Ron says, "as quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," I mumble.

Hermione nods and turns towards Harry.

"You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

I don't know why the thought of Malfoy ratting Harry out bothers me so much, but it does. I feel personally betrayed, a rather irrational feeling, but I've been having a lot of those lately.

"Let's go."

I should have known it wasn't going to be that simple. We haven't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattles and something comes shooting out of a classroom in front of us. It is Peeves. He catches sight of us and gives a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves!"

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" he bellows, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWNT HE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

I curse the stupid poltergeist as we run for our lives, right to the end of the corridor where we slam into a door – it's locked.

"This is it!" Ron moans and I'm inclined to agree as I push helpless at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

I hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he can towards Peeve's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarls and I do. She grabs Harry's wand, taps the lock, and whispers, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicks and the door swings open – we pile through it, shut it quickly, and presses our ears against it, listening. We hear Filch cursing in rage as he passes the door, but he does not come in.

"He think this door is locked," Harry whispers and I smile. Then I look up and my breath catches in my throat. "I think we'll be okay", he continues.

"What is it Neville?", he asks annoyed as he turns around. Then he spots what Neville and I are staring at. I feel like I've walked into a nightmare and suddenly wish that Filch had caught us. I suddenly know exactly where we are. We are in the forbidden corridor on the third floor and it's now abundantly clear to all of us, exactly why it's forbidden.

There, straight in front of us, is a monstrous dog, a dog that fills the whole space between ceiling and floor. And it has three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in our direction, three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It is standing quite still, all six eyes staring down at us, and I know that the only reason we aren't already dead is that we took it by surprise with our sudden appearance, but it is quickly getting over that and growls.

Someone opens the door and we all fall backwards through it as Harry slams the door shut. Then we run, almost fly, back down the corridor. We don't see Filch on our way, but we don't really care, at least I don't. All I want to do is put as much space as possible between me and that monster. We don't stop running until w reach the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asks, looking at our flushes, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout," Harry pants and the portrait swings forward. We scramble into the common room and collapse, trembling, into armchairs. It takes a while before any of us say anything. Neville, indeed, looks as if he'll never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?", Ron says finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

I just nod, too exhausted to reply, but Hermione seems to have gotten both her breath and bad temper back.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snaps. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?", Harry suggests. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was busy with its heads."

"It had three of them." I add helpfully.

"No, not the floor! It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She gets up, glaring at us and I wonder what I did to deserve that look. She's the one who pulled me into the whole mess.

"I hope you're please with yourselves. We could all have been killed – or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

"She has some priority issues", I hear Neville mumble and give him a soft grin. He blushes but grins back timidly.

"You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?" Ron asks.

"I don't get why she's mad at me", I mumble, "She actually did drag me along."

Ron nods but Harry says nothing. He just stares at the fire, looking lost in thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

I sit by the window watching the first snowflakes of the year fall unto the lake and disappear. I love snow. When the whole world is covered in a soft white blanket I find it easier to forget that this world is a wretched evil place. Beneath the snow everything appears peaceful, pure somehow. It gives me hope, that perhaps, one day, the world I know will be purified as well, to emerge new and whole. A hand gently caresses my hair and I smile, not taking my eyes from the lake.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes", he answers, but I know he's not looking at the snow. I turn around and smile, warmth filling up as I look into those deep blue eyes. I love Draco's eyes and feel like I could just stare into them forever. They are different shades of blue and sometimes, when the light is right, there's even some green in there. He leans down and gives me a soft kiss. He gently puts a stray lock of hair behind my ear as he pulls away. Then he sits down beside me and the two of us stare out over the grounds, our hands touching gently.

"Lisha! Draco!", a panicked voice calls from behind us and I see Daphne sprinting towards us, her eyes wild. Immediately I'm on high alert, my heart sinking rapidly.

"What's wrong", Draco asks, his voice calm as it always is in these situations. He doesn't get overwhelmed by feelings as I do. Not easily.

"They took Miranda! Her mother was arrested yesterday and they came and grabbed her just now. We all vouched for her, told her that she's a supporter but they took her anyways."

Tears are running down her face and I rush forward to hug her, feeling cold and numb inside. Miranda. I look over at Draco, wondering if perhaps there's something he can do. His father is high up in the food chain, but Draco shakes his head. My heart sinks further and I feel tears spring to my eyes from the disappointment. Draco sees it in my eyes and looks away, shame reddening his cheeks. I feel bad about hurting him, because I know it isn't his fault. He can't save everyone, not without making his father suspicious, and I know it hurts him. It hurts him to stand by and do nothing a good people are hauled away, one by one.

"Who stood up for her?", I ask, my mind finally going into that distant mode, the one that had made me the leader of our little rebellion here at Hogwarts. It happened sometimes. My mind would take over, my feelings would shut off and I'd be able to look at everything objectively, without caring. The feelings will come later, stronger, but no one but Draco ever sees it when I break down.

"I did.. and Terry and Susan and even Greg, he stood up to his father and his father backhanded him."

I feel a bit of surprise at that. Gregory Goyle stood up to his father. Miracles do happen, I suppose.

"Alright. Lay low from now on ok. They'll be watching you. Don't do or say anything at all that could lead them to believe that you are a traitor as well. Got that?"

She nods, her eyes full of trust as she looks up at me. Draco gives her a small smile which she returns. Then she heads back into the common room.

"Miranda", I whisper, feeling suddenly cold.

Miranda is a good friend of both of us.

"I wish…I wish I could do something, but after Neville two weeks ago my father is not pleased with me. I'm sorry."

I hold up my hand to keep him from continuing.

"It's the way it is. Maybe I can try my luck…"

"No!"

Draco grabs my shoulders and spins me around, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"The only reason they haven't gone after you yet is because you come from such an old pureblood family and have given them no reason to. They already don't trust your mother, and the only reason they aren't watching you too is because they think the two of you are estranged."

His words sting but I know they are true. When my mother realized that she was under observation she broke off almost all contact to me, her messages cold and short. I know it's because she loves me and is afraid for me, so I play my role. I play my role as the proud pureblood and they leave me alone. It needs to stay that way. Only like this can I continue to work for the Order of the Phoenix, an undercover organisation bent on taking back the wizarding world. The fight goes out of my, my shoulders sink and suddenly I'm in his arms, sobbing, wishing I lived in a different world.

Draco holds me, his arms strong and comforting despite the tears I feel falling from his eyes unto my head. We lost a good friend today, it's ok to grieve, for a moment. But then we pull ourselves together, wipe the tears from our eyes and move on. If we broke down every time we lost one of our own we would've gone crazy years ago. Miranda is not the first of our friends to leave us and certainly not the last.

I return to the window, watching the snow fall, and this time it doesn't comfort me. This time I think off Miranda and hope that she dies quickly so she doesn't have to suffer for long. It's a cruel time when all you can do for your friends is wish for their death to be a quick one.

"I hate this", I mumble softly, but Draco hears me and takes my hand into his.

"I know."

What else is there to say?

I wake up with tears running down my face and pull a pillow over my mouth to muffle my sobs as I mourn the death of a girl I haven't met yet. Miranda. I don't know what she looks like, don't know her last name, but I know that the other me, as I have begun to call her, cared for her deeply. Is this the future? Am I dreaming about a future where friends are there one day and gone the next, where we live in constant fear?

"Did you have a bad dream again?"

Hermione looks over at me from her bed, concern on her face. She said again. That means she's noticed that I've been having these… nightmares? Visions? I don't know what to call them. I nod and suddenly I feel her crawling into bed with me, her arms around me as she pulls me close. The embrace does it and I burst into a fresh set of tears, streaming down my cheeks into her bushy brown hair. She holds me like this until the sobs cease, then she sits up, brushes some hair out of my face and hands me a tissue. I blow my nose.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

She smiles at me and we just sit there, neither of us saying a word. I don't know when exactly, but Hermione has fallen back asleep, curled up on my bed, but I can't sleep. I'm too worried about what these dreams may mean. So I pull out a piece of paper and start writing a letter to my mom. I tell her about my week and the things that have happened so far, leaving out our little adventure with the three headed dog. Writing to my mother calms me down and after a while I'm asleep as well, parchment and quill still in my fingers.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

I can hardly believe that I've already been at Hogwarts for two months now. Since the night Hermione crawled into my bed I've only had a few dreams, none of which as vivid or long lasting as the last one, but it doesn't really matter because that one haunts me enough. It helps that whenever a dream starts Hermione's hand is there, gently shaking me awake. Whenever I fall asleep afterwards the dreams are gone and the next morning I can't remember them anymore. I am grateful for Hermione and her friendship. She is starting to grown on me, but one of the side effects of this kind of sleeping is that we're both rather exhausted.

But I am getting used to life here at Hogwarts. Most of the time I manage to ignore the strange sensations that seem to hit me out of nowhere and my lessons are becoming more and more interesting now that we've moved on from complete basics.

On Halloween morning, I awake to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announces in Charms that he thinks we are ready to start making objects fly, something we've all been dying to try since we've seen him make Trevor zoom around the classroom. The professor puts us into pairs to practice. I'm partnered with Harry and feel guilty at the relief I feel that it wasn't Neville. I like the clumsy boy, but I do care about my grades as well. Hermione, however, has to work with Ron. It's hard to tell which of the two is angrier about this. I don't know exactly what happened, but she's been cross with them ever since Harry got his Nimbus 2000. I haven't asked her about it because I don't want to get sucked into another one of their arguments.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual, squeaks. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said s instead of and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

The spell is difficult. Both Harry and I swish and flick, but the feather we're supposed to be sending skyward just lays on the desktop. I get frustrated and my wand shoots sudden sparks, setting the feather on fire. I blush as Harry puts it out with his hat.

"Sorry", I mumble and he just shrugs, giving me a small smile.

"No biggie."

Ron, at the next table, isn't having much more luck. His feather may not be on fire, but from his facial expression the feather's doom seems only seconds away.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouts, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong" Hermione snaps. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-osa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarls. I shake my head. He's so going to regret having said that.

Hermione rolls up her sleeves, flicks her wand, and says, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather rises off the desk and hovers about four feet above her head.

"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick cries, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Judging from Ron's face he's not happy about this, and, as I look around, I see that this sentiment is shared by many of the others.

"Did you see that? I did it." Hermione beams at me as we are leaving the classroom and I shrug.

"That's great, but you did kinda make Ron look bad, you know. I don't think he liked you showing off like that."

Hermione looks at me with hurt in her eyes. I am about to apologize, but then Ron, who is in front of us says rather loudly: "It's no wonder no one can stand her! She's a nightmare, honestly."

Now I feel incredibly bad for having taken Ron's side, but before I can even say anything she rushes off, bumping into Ron as she hurries away.

"I think she heard you."

Harry says to Ron who just shrugs.

"So? She must have noticed she's got no friends."

"That's not true!"

Ron and Harry spin around and look at me in surprise.

"I am her friend and she was trying to help you-you big oaf!"

I stomp by them angrily to the next class, hoping to find Hermione there, but she isn't there and I don't see her for the rest of the afternoon. As angry as I am at Ron and Harry, I still feel guilty for what I said before that. I try to apologize to her, but I don't know where she is. I overhear Parvati telling Lavender that she's crying in the girls' bathroom but when I go to apologize she sends me away and so I leave for the Halloween feast.

I'm sitting next to Neville, ignoring Ron and Harry who seem to have already forgotten about Hermione. But as I look around the great hall Hermione slips to the back of my mind as well. A thousand live bats are fluttering from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swoop over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appears suddenly on the golden plates and we dig in.

I am about to help myself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell comes sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stares as he reaches Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumps against the tables, and gasps, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

Then he sinks to the floor in a dead faint.

There is an uproar. It takes several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbles, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Ron's brother Percy seems in his element as he shouts at us to follow him and mentions at least a gazillion times that he's a prefect.

I walk behind Harry, Ron and Neville who are all wondering how a troll got in when I stop dead in my tracks.

"Hermione!" I whisper and Ron and Harry stop and turn around.

"What about her?", Ron asks, but Harry caught on.

"She doesn't know about the troll."

"We have to go get her," I say, ready to go on my own if they don't want to.

Ron bites his lip.

"Oh, all right", he snaps. "But Percy'd better not see us."

I give them a small smile then, ducking down, we join the Hufflepuffs going the other, slip down a deserted side corridor and hurry off toward the girl's bathroom. We have just turned the corner when we hear quick footsteps behind us.

"Percy!" Ron hisses, pulling Harry and I behind a large stone griffin.

I peer around it, but it isn't Percy that I see. It's Snape. He crosses the corridor and disappears from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispers. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Who cares!" I snap. "We have to get to Hermione."

They nod and the tree of us creep along the next corridor as quietly as possible.

"He's heading for the third floor", Harry says, but I hold up my hand.

"Do you smell that?"

Both Harry and Ron sniff and wrinkle their noses at the foul smell, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. And then we hear it – a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron points – at the end of a passage to the left, something huge is moving towards us. We shrink into the shadows and watch as it emerges into a patch of moonlight.

It is disgusting. Twelve feet tall, its skin a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like coconut. It has short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it is incredible. It's holding a huge wooden club , which drags along the flor because its arms are so long. I almost feel bad about comparing Grabbe and Goyle to trolls all this time.

The troll stops next to a doorway and peers inside. It waggles its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouches slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock", Harry mutters. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," Ron says nervously.

They edge toward the open door.

"No!", I almost shout and they stop in their tracks, turning around to stare at me in disbelief.

"What are you doing! " Harry hisses.

"That's the girl's bathroom you idiots!" I say, panic rising in my chest. Hermione! My heart nearly stops when I hear a high, petrified scream.

"Oh, no", Ron says, nearly as pale as me.

It's the last thing I want to do, but my friend is in there so I sprint into the bathroom, my wand in my hand. Hermione is shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she's about to faint. The troll is advancing on her, knocking the sink off the walls as it goes.

"Confuse it!" Harry says desperate to the two of us, seizes as tap and throws it as hard as he can against the wall.

The troll stops a few feet from Hermione. It lumbers around, blinking stupidly, to see what made the noise. Its mean little eyes look at me, it hesitates and then makes for me instead, lifting its club as it goes. I feel terrified as the giant monster heads for me.

"Oy! Pea-brain!" Ron yells from the other side of the chamber, and he throws a metal pipe at it. The troll doesn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it hears the yell and pauses again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving me time to run around it. I grab Hermione's shaking arm.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yells at the two of us as I try to pull her toward the door, but she doesn't move, she is still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror. I slap her, hoping to get her to respond and it seems to work. Her eyes focus on me.

The shouting and the echoes seem to be driving the troll berserk. It roars again and starts toward Ron, who is nearest and has no way to escape. I can hardly believe my eyes as Harry takes a great running jump and actually manages to fasten his arms around the troll's thick neck from behind. I can't quite make up my mind whether he's brave or stupid. I settle on a little bit of both as Harry's wand slides up the trolls nose, making it howl in pain. The troll twists and flails its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life. I watch, terrified that he's going to rip harry off or catch him with a terribl blow from his club.

Hermione sinks to the floor in fright and no amount of pulling on my side seems to be getting her back on her feet. Ron pulls out his wand and cries "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flies out of the troll's hand, rises high, high up into the air, turns slowly over – and drops, with a sickening crack, onto its owners head. The troll sways on the spot and then falls falt on its face, with a thud that makes the whole room tremble.

Harry gets to his feet. He is shaking and out of breath. Ron is standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he has done. I just stand next to Hermione, one hand still holding the arm I'd been trying to pull, my mind completely blank.

It is Hermione who speaks first.

"Is it – dead?"

"I don't think so" I say, "I think Ron just knocked it out."

Harry nods and bends down, pulling his wand out of the troll's nose. It's covered in what looks like lumpy gra glue.

"Urgh – troll boggers."

He wipes it on the troll's trousers and suddenly I'm laughing. I don't know why, it's not rational, but my entire body is shaking with uncontrolled laughter, laughter so hard that my eyes star tearing and I have to hold my stomach. The other's stare at me and one by one the corners of their mouths curve upwards as they join in. A sudden slamming and loud footsteps make the four of us stop and look up. We must have made quite the racket, and someone must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall comes bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape and Quirell . Quirell takes one look at the troll, lets out a faint whimper, and sits down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bends over the troll. Professor McGonagall is staring at the four of us. I have never seen her so angry, and then, seconds later I have the odd feeling that that isn't true. Her lips are white.

"What on earth were you thining of?" she says, cold fury in her voice. I glanc over at harry and Ron, who look just as terrified as I feel. Suddenly I miss the troll. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

I look at the floor, trying to find the words to explain what happened. Then a small voice comes out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione is finally on her feet.

"I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I've read all about them."

My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline at my surprise to hear Hermione lying to a teacher.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. Alicia was trying to get me to run. They didn't have time to go and fetch someone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry, Ron and I are trying our hardest to not look as if this story is complete news to us.

"Well- in that case…" Professor McGonagall says, staring at the four of us, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hangs her head. I am speechless. Hermione is not one to break the rules, and here she is, pretending that she has, to get us out of trouble.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," Professor McGonagall says. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to the Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

Hermione leaves.

Professor McGonagall turns toward Harry, Ron and I.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore and your parents will be informed of this. You may go."

My heart sinks at her words, barely registering that she's awarded us points. She's going to tell my mother. My mother is going to freak out I just know it. We hurry out of the chamber, none of us speaking at all until we have climbed two floors up. It's a relief to be away from the smell of the troll.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbles.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's", Harry corrects.

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admits "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needing saving if she hadn't been crying in the bathroom in the first place", I remind them, making Ron blush.

"We should apologize for that, shouldn't we?" Harry asks and I nod. I have my own apologizing to do as well.

We reach the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout", we say and enter.

The common room is packed and noisy. Everyone is eating the food that has been sent up. Hermione, however is standing alone by the door waiting for us. I rush forward and wrap her into a bear hug that she clearly didn't expect.

"I'm sorry", I mumble into her bushy brown hair and I feel her arms close around me.

"It's ok", she mumbles back, her voice thick with emotion. She pulls away and I let her, just relieved that she's ok and no longer angry at me. There is a very long pause as she faces the two boys. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all say "Thanks," and we hurry off to get our plates.

Something's changed, I can feel it. Somehow the four of us are friends now. I smile. I guess there are some things, such as knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll, that you can't share without ending up liking each other.

It's late as we all head to bed and I feel so drowsy that I barely manage to brush my teeth before my head hits the pillow.

"Good night", I mumble and before I can even here Hermione's response I am out cold.

I should have known. After something as eventful as knocking out a mountain troll I should have known, but the dream still catches me by surprise.

It's raining, and I am soaked to the bone, but I don't care as I look down at the grave in front of me. Neville Longbottom, it reads. 1980- 2003 . He died too young, like so many. Neville and I weren't particularly close during our time at Hogwarts. It wasn't possible with him being under constant observation and then, in our seventh year he left Hogwarts altogether, going into hiding with the other Order members. I remember how Draco saved his life, planting the first seed of doubt in his father's mind. Would Lucius have been as quick to believe Draco a traitor had he not vouched for Neville? It's hard to tell. However, I don't blame Neville. Draco wouldn't want that. Neville had five extra years because of what Draco did, five years in which he became one of our closest friends. It hit both of us hard when he died during one of the first battles. One of the first of many. I saw him die. He died saving my life, something I still feel guilty about, to this day, ten years later.

I remember Draco telling me to not feel guilty.

"He loved you. It was his choice."

I know that Draco himself battled with mixed feelings concerning Neville's death. He loved him like a brother, but at the same time he was glad that the curse hit him and not me. Now they're both gone. I put my flowers on Neville's headstone he one Draco and I created together and charmed so it would survive time. No one should ever forget a hero as great as Neville Longbottom.


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright, my dear readers ( I do hope I have some? ) Here's the next chapter. I know I'm sticking** very very **closely to the** canon **but I have my reasons, believe me. I appreciate any and all comments as long as they remain polite :) Also if there are questions you have I will answer them ( as long as they don't give away the whole plot) So enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter 8

With the start of November, the weather turns very cold. The mountains around the school turn icy gray and the lake looks like chilled steel. Every morning the ground is covered in frost, and I eagerly await the first fall of snow.

Most students are excited for something else, however. Quidditch season has begun. On Saturday Gryffindor will be playing against Slytherin, with Harry flying seeker for the first time. If Gryffindor wins we will move into the second place in the House Championship.

None of us has seen Harry play because Oliver Wood seems to have decided that Harry is a secret weapon of some sort. I am a bit peeved at this. I'm not quite over the fact that Harry got made seeker while I got a slap on the wrist and would have liked to at least see some of his training sessions, but every time I tried Wood shooed me out. Harry is obviously rather nervous about the whole thing, so I swallow my pride and tell him he'll be brilliant.

The four of us spend most of our time together now, and sometimes Neville joins us. I wish Neville weren't so shy, but lately he's started stuttering even more and sometimes when I'm talking to him he just suddenly turns around and walks away, his head beet red.

It's the day before the big match and the four of us are out in the freezing courtyard during break. Hermione has conjured up a bright blue fire that can be carried around in a jam jar. We are standing with our backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crosses the yard. I frown as I notice that he is limping. Harry, Ron and Hermione move closer together to block the fire from view, and I wonder why. I doubt that it's not allowed. All their effort to look inconspicuous just makes them look like their hiding something and Snape limps over.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It's Quidditch Through the Ages and Harry shows him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape says. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up", Harry mutters angrily as Snape limps away, and I have to say I agree. I don't understand the potions professor. He is almost kind to me, inquiring after my mother from time to time, but wherever Harry's concerned he turns into a real git.

"Wonder what's wrong with his leg?" I mutter.

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him", Ron says bitterly and I give him a stern look.

"That's not a nice thing to say."

"So? He's not a nice person."

I know it's pointless to argue with Ron about these things, so I drop it.

The Gryffindor common room is incredibly noisy that evening. The four of us are sitting together next to a window. Hermione is checking our Charms homework. The boys ask her if they can't just copy it, but she never lets them. They have to learn, she says, and I agree with her. I spot Neville on the other side of the room and start another attempt at including him in our group. I get up and walk over to him. He's sitting on one of the armchairs, a book in his hands.

"What are you reading?"

Neville jumps and nearly drops the book. I give him a small smile to which he responds by turning beet red again.

"The…the… the diff…fferent uses of monkshood. Profffffessor Sprout gave it to me."

"Is it interesting?"

He nods. I sigh, I was really hoping I'd get more words out of him, but his nose is back in the book she's trying really hard to ignore me, so I head back towards the others.

"I don't know what's up with him", I sigh and then, "Where's Harry?"

"He went to get the book back from Snape."

"Better him than me", I say and they start laughing.

"That's we said."

I grin at them. Harry returns to the common room, an odd expression on his face.

"Did you get it?" Ron asks as Harry joins us. "What's the matter?"

"I knocked on the staff room, but there was no answer, so I decided to look in. I thought it was worth a try, to see if Snape left the door in there. Snape and Filch were inside, alone and Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

Snape said something about keeping his eyes on all three heads at once and then they saw me and I ran before he could take any more house points.

You know what this means?" he finishes breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him – he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes are wide and I am frowning. It doesn't seem right.

"No –he wouldn't", Hermione says. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," Ron snaps. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's her after? What's that dog guarding?

"I'm with Hermione on this one, but I'd like to know what's beneath that trapdoor as well."

And so the four of us sit by the fire, thinking about three-headed dogs and trapdoors.

The next morning dawns very bright and cold. The Great hall is full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. I fill my plate to the rim and look over at Harry's empty one.

"You've got to eat something."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast", Hermione tries.

"I'm not hungry."

So I shrug and dig in. It's delicious.

"Harry, you need your strength," Seamus Finnigan says. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

I shake my head in disbelief. Boys are so incredibly stupid. As if that's going to make Harry feel better. I give Harry a small smile.

"You'll be fine. You've got Fred and George to keep you safe."

It's eleven o'clock and Hermione, Ron and I are out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. I brought a pair of binoculars. The seats may be raced high in the air, but it can still be difficult to see what's going on sometimes. We are joined by Neville, Seamus and Dean in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, we've painted a large banner on some sheets Ron's rat has ruined. Potter for President it says in bold letters and Dean, who's good at drawing, has added a large Gryffindor lion underneath, but it is Hermione who topped it all off with a tricky little charm so that the paint flashes in different colours.

We cheer as the Gryffindor team walks out of the pitch and we spot Harry behind Fred and George. Madam Hooch is refereeing. She's standing in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. She says something to the teams as they gather around her. On her command everyone starts mounting their brooms and, as Madam Hooch gives a loud blast on her silver whistle, they shoot into the air.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too – "

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

I laugh at Lee Jordon, a friend of the Weasley twins, who is doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

Jordan shouts and we cheer as the Slytherins howl and moan. I spot Draco, he's standing in the front, his eyes fixed on the match. His expression surprises me. Instead of the usual sneer there is a smile on his face as if he's truly enjoying this. He notices me looking and immediately the guard goes back up, hiding the joy he was showing just seconds before. I give him a small smile and return my attention to the match, ignoring the confused expression on his face.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione squeeze together to give Hagrid enough space to join us.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," he says, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," I say and Hagrid looks down at me with surprise.

"An' who migh' the little pale one be?" His smile is so friendly that I decide to let it slide.

"Alicia Morgan", I reply and he give me a nod.

"Pleasure to met ye"

"Harry hasn't had much to do yet." Ron say and Hagrid nods again.

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'" He raises his binoculars and peers skyward at the speck that is Harry. I raise mine as well and watch harry gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. A Bludger decides to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, and I hold my breath, but Harry dodges it and Fred Weasley comes chasing after it. He beats the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Le Jordan says, "Chacer Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

A murmur runs through the crowd as Adrian Pucey drops the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that has passed his left ear. Harry has seen it too. He dives downward toward the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs is right behind him. Neck on neck they hurtle toward the Snitch – all Chasers seem to have forgotten what they are supposed to be doing, hanging in mid-air, watching.

Harry is faster than Higgs, and I think we're about to win when WHAM! I scream out in rage with the rest of the Gryffindors. Marcus flint has blocked Harry, flying into his way on purpose, and Harry's broom is spinning of course with Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" I shout, echoed by chorus of angry Gryffindors.

Madame Hooch is speaking angrily to Flint and then orders a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. The snitch has disappeared again in all the confusion. I hear Dean shouting something about a red card and look at him in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Ron asks.

"Red card!" Dean says furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't succer, Dean," Ron reminds him.

I, however, am on Dean's side.

"They should change it then. That idiot almost knocked Harry out of the sky!"

Lee Jordan seems to be finding it difficult not to take sides as well.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating- "

"Jordan!" I hear McGonagall growl.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul – "

"Jordan, I'm warning you!"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession. "

I cheer as my namesake scores and watch as Harry dodges another Bludger, which spins dangerously past his head. Suddenly Harry's broom gives a frightening lurch and for a split second I think he's going to fall. He is gripping the broom tightly with both his hands and knees as it happens again. It looks as if his broom is trying to throw him off. But Nimbus 2000 don't suddenly decide to just throw off their riders. Now it looks as if Harry has lost all control over the broom as it zigzags through the air making violent swishing movements. I look around, wondering if I'm the only one who has notice that something is wrong.

His broom stars rolling over and over, with him only just managing to hold on and I cry out, fear in my chest. The whole crowd gasps as the broom gives a wild jerk, swinging Harry off it. He is now dangling from it, holding ion with only one hand.

I vaguely hear conversations buzzing around me, but I can't pay attention. I am suddenly overwhelmed by a fear so strong I've never felt anything like it before. Not even when I thought I was going to be killed by a mountain troll. Fear for Harry's life. Not Harry, I hear a voice in my head, Please not Harry! I need to do something! Protect him, but instead I am standing here, completely helpless.

"I knew it!" Hermione gasps besides me. "Snape – look."

Ron grabs the binoculars out of Hermione's hand and I raise my own to look where she pointed. Snape is the middle of the stand opposite of us. He has his eyes fixed on Harry and is muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something – jinxing the broom," Hermione says and before we can say anything she has disappeared. I look back to Harry, that awful fear still clutching at my chest. I have never been so afraid for anyone in my life before and somehow that thought amplifies my fear. I watch as the Weasley twins fly up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it's no good – every time they get near him, the broom just jumps higher. They drop lower and circle beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he falls.

"Come on, Hermione" Ron mutters desperately. I am too terrified to speak.

Suddenly Harry is able to clamber back on to his broom and I feel relief wash over me as I let myself fall back onto the chair. I barely realize I am crying as the heavy weight lifts from my chest, barely notice Neville's hand on my as he give it a soft squeeze.

"He's ok Lisha."

I look up at him and give him a soft smile, tears till running down my face. Neville holds out a handkerchief, which I take gratefully and I wipe my face. No one else seems to have noticed my little break down as they are all concentrating on the game. The crowd burst into cheers and the Gryffindors are all on their feet, stomping and cheering. All but Neville and I. We missed it. I smile weakly.

"I guess Harry caught the snitch."

"Yeah I guess so."

Later they tell me that Harry didn't exactly catch the snitch, but nearly swallowed it instead. I laugh at that, but it is half hearted laugh. I am still shaking from the strong emotions I've just gone through. Emotions that I, once again, can't understand. Harry is my friend. It is natural for me to be afraid for him, but the intensity surprises me. It didn't feel like fear for a friend. It was far too strong for that. It felt a lot like I imagine a mother fearing for her child. And that is a truly disturbing thought.

After the match Hagrid invites us all over to his huts for tea and even Neville comes, his face still full of concern as he looks at me.

"I'm fine", I say, giving him a small smile, but he doesn't buy it and somehow I'm glad.

"It was Snape," Ron explains as we're all sitting in Hagrid's hut. "Hermione, Alicia and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," Hagrid says. "Why would Snape do something like that?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione look at one another, but I just stare at the table. I've been wondering the same. It's true, I did see him mutter, but I'm not as quick as the others to believe that Snape is evil. Then I remember that feeling of hate in my first potions class and I wonder if it was some kind of instinct telling me to be careful.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid suddenly asks and I tune back in to the conversation. Apparently Fluffy is the name of the three-headed dog that nearly ate us all those months ago.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah – he's mine- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the – "

"Yes?" Harry says eagerly, but Hagrid seems to have caught himself just in time.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," he says gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape' trying to steal whatever it is!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid says hotly. "Now, listen to me, all five of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel – "

"Aha!", Harry says, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looks furious with himself and it doesn't take long for him to usher us out of his hut.

On our way back to the castle Ron, Hermione and Harry walk ahead, talking excitedly about the match and what we've just learned from Hagrid. I can't quite get myself to care as much as they seem to. I don't think it's our business.

"What happened today, during the match?" Neville suddenly asks me and I look up at him. He has grown in these last few months and is half a head taller than me. Then again, I'm kind of short, even shorter than Harry.

"What do you mean?"

I know exactly what he means, but I how am I supposed to answer a question I've been asking myself?

"When Harry's broom acted all weird. You went all stiff, and then when he was safe again and you started crying."

I sigh and stop, looking up at the sky that's slowly losing colour.

"Honestly? I don't know. But…" my lip quivers as I look over at Neville and suddenly I'm speaking the words I've been too afraid to say out loud to anyone. "I think there's something wrong with me. I keep having these irrational emotions. Like today. When Harry was up there? I was so scared I couldn't even breathe! I felt as if, if Harry fell and died, a part of me would die too. And I don't know why? And that scares me, because it feels like there's a part of me that doesn't belong to me, that isn't mine to control."

I am crying now and Neville awkwardly hugs me, clearly at lost for words. But I don't need words. After a few minutes I pull away and dry my eyes.

"You think I'm a freak, don't you?" I ask, avoiding looking at him.

"No I don't. I think it just means that you're a very caring person."

I look up at him and see his gentle smile. I shyly smile back at him and the two of us head back towards the castle. Maybe Neville is right. Maybe I'm not going crazy. Maybe I'm just a very caring person. I want to believe that, but then I remember the dreams and I know that it's not true. I may be a caring person, but that doesn't account for the future ghosts haunting me.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

It's mid-December I'm out running again, despite the freezing cold and thick snow. Last night's dream is weighing heavy on my chest. It was about Neville. It's the same scene I saw on the train when I first met Neville, but the extended version this time. The version in which a grown Neville throws himself in front of the woman he loves, knowing that he's never been more than a friend to her. I don't like this version and shake my head, trying to dispel the images. I am soaking wet from the falling snow and my feet are frozen, but I step up my pace, running faster, forcing my feet through the heavy snow, leaving behind Neville's dead eyes.

I've been out here so often lately that my endurance has improved and although this should make me happy, it doesn't. It just means that I have to run longer and faster now to outrun my demons. Finally, I can't run anymore and collapse onto one of the boulders surrounding the lake, breathing heavily, sweat on my face despite the cold. I perform a warming charm Hermione taught me on my feet and hands. I tilt my head towards the sky, letting the snow fall on my skin. I hear someone approaching me through the snow, but I don't open my eyes. I have a clue who it might be.

"Hi", Malfoy says as he sits down next to me. He is bundled up in a thick winter cloak, his hair covered by a green cap. I don't look at him, can't somehow. That odd sensation is back, the one where this feels far too familiar, too comfortable.

"Hi"

We sit there for a while, neither of us breaking the silence, watching the snow fall onto the frozen lake.

"Why am I here?"

The question startles me and I turn to look at him.

"I don't know."

He sighs and buries his head in his hands.

"I feel strange around you", he finally says sounding pretty unhappy about it. "Like I should know you…but I don't. I don't know you! You're just some pale annoying Gryffindor!"

Part of me feels offended and wants to snap at him, the other part feels incredible relief. Relief that I'm not alone in this. As I look in his eyes I realize that he is frustrated, frustrated beyond belief.

"So do I", I say instead, giving him a shrug. "I don't quite understand it… It started when I first saw you on the Hogwarts Express. I feel like I know you, but not you, you know?"

I'm not making any sense, but he still nods. I bite my lip.

"Maybe", I say carefully, "we could get to know each other. Maybe then this weird sensation will make sense."

"Like…friends."

He looks like he's bitten into a sour apple.

"Well… maybe… Let's make it easier. Tell me a little bit about yourself?"

He frowns and looks back down at his hands then, finally he nods.

He starts by telling me about his family. He tells me about his father who, although Draco believes that he loves him, is a cold and distant man. Lucius. I can tell from the way Draco speaks that he wishes he had a closer relationship with his father, but also that he admires him and wants to be like him.

"He's a proud man", Draco says, his eyes shining with awe. "No one would dare to cross him, and I want to be like that. Feared and respected."

Then he starts talking about his mother. Narcissa. His voice is softer as he speaks about her and I can tell that this boy really loves his mother. "She's the most beautiful woman I know and she never raises her voice or loses her temper. She's like an ice statue, kind of perfect. "

He gives me an embarrassed smile.

"You think I'm a mommy's boy don't you?"

I chuckle and nod. Then I add: "Yeah but I'm a momma's girl. I think very similarly about my own mother. She's the kindest most beautiful person you'll ever meet. She has long brown hair and blue eyes. I get my eyes from her."

"She sounds nice, and you do have pretty eyes", he adds the last part almost shyly and I blush. "What's her name?"

"Sarah."

"What about your Dad?"

I sigh and then I shiver. I pull out my wand to perform another warming charm on myself, but also because it's hard for me to talk about my dad. Whenever I do, I remember the sadness in my mother's eyes.

"I never met him. He died, during the last war, when my mom was pregnant with me, but my mom says he was a wonderful person. I like to believe her."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's ok", I smile at him. "I mean I never knew him… but he must have been wonderful for someone like my mom to fall in love with him. You know?"

He just nods. Soon our conversation turns to different things. School, the teachers and Quidditch. We talk for little over an hour until both of us feel completely frozen, despite the heating charms I performed on the two of us, and decide to head back to the castle.

"Together?", I ask this time, a twinkle in my eye.

He sticks out his tongue at me. "Stupid Gryffindor", but this time I can tell he's kidding.

"Dumb Slytherin."

He grabs some snow and flings it at me and I retaliate. Soon we're in a full-on snowball war and by the time we enter the castle both of us are completely drenched and laughing. As we approach the Great Hall I can tell that Draco is nervous and I give him a small smile.

"It's ok. I'll wait."

He gives me a short nod and heads into the hall, not looking back, but I smile anyways because I think that maybe the two of us could become friends.

No one can wait for the holidays to start, and me least of all. I can't wait to see my mother! Although Hogwarts seems cosier than ever before, now that the Great Hall and the Gryffindor Common room have roaring fires in front of which the students bundle up. But the corridors are drafty and have become icy and a bitter wind rattles the windows in the classrooms. Worst are Professors Snape's classes because they're down in the dungeons, where our breath rises in a mist before them and we keep as close as possible to our hot cauldrons.

I am working with Hermione on a potion next to Harry and Ron when Draco passes behind them.

"I do feel so sorry, for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

The jab is directed at Harry and Ron, who are both staying at Hogwarts this year, and as Crabbe and Goyle chuckle, I glare at them. Harry ignores them, but Ron clenches his fist, glaring angrily into his cauldron. I feel annoyed. Whenever Draco and I are alone he's perfectly likeable, but as soon as there are other people he turns into an arrogant brat. I really don't get it.

As we leave the dungeons we are blocked by a large tree in the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet are sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound tells me that Hagrid is behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any hell?" Ron offers as he sticks his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron"

"Would you mind moving out of the way?", Draco drawls behind me. I don't think he's aware that I'm standing right in front of him. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

"Draco!", the word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. The two of us may have decided to ignore each other in public, but I can't let him insult one of my friends like that. For a second Draco looks surprised, but then the arrogant mask is back and he raises his eyebrow at me.

"Oh look at Weasley's pet ghost defending him. What are you going to do, float through me? Ooooooh, how terrifying. " he cries out in mock fear and the Slytherins around us laugh. Ron and I dive at Malfoy at the same time, just as Snape comes up the stairs.

"WEASLEY! MORGAN!"

Ron lets go of Malfoy's robes and I step back, breathing heavily with anger.

"They were provoked, Professor Snape", Hagrid says, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was inultin them."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid, " Snape says silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, each, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, and his goonies push roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere. I am furious! That stupid arrogant little brat.

"I'll get him", Ron says, grinding his teeth. "One of these days, I'll get him –"

"And I'll help you", I mutter, trying to hold back the angry tears that are threatening to break free.

"I hate them both", Harry says and I look up in surprise at the harsh words. "Malfoy and Snape."

Usually I'd say something to defend the potions professor, but right now I'm not feeling very defensive of him. He docked us points! Even though Malfoy started it. It's not fair.

"It's not fair", I mutter, and a tear escapes. Hermione puts her arm around my shoulder as I look down at my feet.

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas", Hagrid says. "Tell ye what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of us follow Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are busy with the Christmas decorations. The hall looks spectacular! Festoons of holly and mistletoe are hanging all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees are standing around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asks.

"Just one," Hermione says. "And that reminds me – Alicia, Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

I sigh. They want to do research, but I really am not interested in any of that.

"The library?" Hagrid asks me as he follows us out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't you?"

"We're not working. Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel they've been trying to find out who he is." I say in a bored voice. I don't care who Nicolas Flamel is and I don't want to go to the library, but if I tell them that they'll look at me as I've grown another head.

"You what?" Hagrid looks shocked and the other three turn around. "Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all." Hermione says and I roll my eyes. Yeah. Sure. That's all.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" harry adds with big innocent eyes and I supress a grin. "We must've gone through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," Hagrid says flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then,"Ron says. "Come on Lisha." ¨

The thing is… I don't think we are ever going to find anything about Nicholas Flamel. The three of them have been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid let it slip, still convinced that Prfoessor Snape was trying to steal whatever that dog was guarding. I, who don't quite believe Snape and the devil to be the same person, can't share their enthusiasm. I think we should just let the teachers and Professor Dumbledore take care of things. I am the only one who seems to think so. Hermione, Ron and Harry all seem convinced that it is, somehow, their job to insure the safety of the mysterious object.

"Uhm guys?"

Hermione turns around, looking stressed.

"What?"

"I don't feel like going to the library… mind if I just meet you guys for lunch later?"

Ron opens his mouth to argue and Harry looks at me like I've grown another head, but Hermione nods and pulls them along before they have the chance to say anything.

"What's up with her?" I hear Ron mutter right before they're around the corner. I let out a long breath of relief. I start wandering aimlessly, my thoughts going back to the confrontation in front of potions class. Draco and I had been spending time together, talking, on an off and I'd been under the impression that we were becoming friends. So why does he act like an idiot whenever anyone else is around? I'm not paying attention to where I am going and I find myself in a corridor that is completely unfamiliar to me, which is an odd sensation to me. It has never happened before. From day one I have always known where I am or where I have to go and now here I am, standing next to a suit of armor, completely disoriented. The corridor is pretty narrow and I decide to follow it, curious as to where it might lead.

There is a door to my left and it's slightly ajar. I peek inside, but there is no one in there, so I open it a bit further and slide in. It's an unused classroom. The desks and chairs are piled up against the wall and the curtains are drawn, giving the room a dark and mysterious feel. Propped against the wall facing me I see something that looks as if it doesn't belong here, something that looks as if someone has just put it there to keep out of the way. It's a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There is an inscription carved around the top and I strain my eyes to read it. _Erised stra ehru oy tube cafru oyt on wohsi._ The words make no sense to me.

I move closer to the mirror, but I see no reflection of myself. Now I'm frowning, Draco's stupid ghost comment fresh in my mind my lack of reflection bothers me. So I step directly in front of it. I gasp. In the mirror I see a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, with long white hair, pale skin and big blue eyes. It's me, and I am smiling. Next to me I see the Draco from my dreams, his arms wrapped around the older me, his face gentle and kind, love burning in his eyes. On my other side I see my mother and father. They're holding hands and there's a light in my mother's eyes that I've never seen there before. Next to Draco is an older Neville and behind him I see one of the Weasley twins, then a young woman with long black hair and gentle brown eyes.

"Miranda I whisper."

There's a ripple and the surface and new faces are added to the mixture. An adult Harry, Ron and Hermione join the mix, all of them smiling at me. There are more people there, stretching on and on, people I've seen in my dreams, people I've seen die, all of them alive. All of them happy. My throat feels tight, and my heart yearns for the people behind the glass. I walk up to the mirror and place my hand against it, my colder counterpart doing the same. As our hands meet I imagine I can feel the warmth of her skin.

I'm not sure how long I sit there, staring up at the faces that are both strange and familiar to me, with tears running down my cheeks, but a loud rumble in my stomach pulls me out the trance I fell into. Lunch has probably already started. It takes a lot of effort for me to tear myself from the mirror and make my way to the Great Hall. On the way I stop by the girl's bathroom and quickly wash my face. I don't want people to ask me why I've been crying. The hall is already full of students, all of them eating, when I enter. As I head over to my friends I glance over at the Slytherin table. Draco is watching me and he frowns as he sees my expression, but I quickly turn away, still angry at him for the way he acted earlier.

I sit down next to Hermione and start filling my plate.

"Where have you been?"

I just shrug and stuff some potatoes into my mouth to avoid having to answer. It tastes like nothing. Hermione keeps looking at me, but after a while she shrugs and turns back to the boys.

"You will keep looking while we're away, won't you? And send me and owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," Ron says. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe", Hermione says dryly. "They're both dentists."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 9

The next day Hermione, Neville and I are on the Hogwarts express, heading home. Both Neville and Hermione chatter excitedly about the holidays and their parents, but I'm not paying attention. Instead I stare out the window, watching the white landscapes pass me by, my mind on the mirror. I am confused about what I saw there or what the mirror exactly does. The best I can come up with is that it shows us the people we love. But that raises another question. I didn't really recognize all the people in the mirror, not really. I mean… well a part of me did, in that same way a part of me seems to know and feel things that seem to have nothing to do with _me._ I sigh.

"Lisha?"

"Hm?"

I look up at Neville who is looking at me with concern on his round features. I feel a pang of regret as I look at him. I've been spending less and less time with him ever since I became friends with Harry and Ron and I feel guilty. But Neville hasn't made it easy on me, I think defensively.

"You alright?"

I nod.

"Yeah… I'm just… I don't know. A bit melancholic I guess."

"That's perfectly normal", Hermione states. "Neville and I will miss Hogwarts too, won't we?"

Neville nods.

"Anyone wanna play gobstones?"

Hermione nods, but I don't really feel like it. I don't really feel like sitting around here either.

"I'm going to the loo."

They nod and start their game. I head out into the train corridor, taking a deep breath. I need to be alone, to think, and I think best when I'm moving. So I start walking down the aisle, past the compartments, my mind still on the mirror.

"Lisha", a voice calls from behind me and I turn around to where Draco is exiting a compartment. He quickly closes it behind him and catches up with me.

"Hey."

"What do you want?" I say gruffly, still angry for what he said the other day. He looks taken aback and his expression hardens.

"I was going to wish you a good holiday, that's all, but if you're too good for it then fine!" he snaps.

"Oh, you were just going to wish me a good holiday, were you? Well, you can stuff your good holiday up your butt!"

He looks genuinely hurt by my reaction, but I'm not quite ready to let it go.

"What is the matter with you? I thought we are friends…" he mutters.

"Well so did I, but friends don't insult their friends and cause them to lose house points."

He has the decency to look embarrassed at least.

"Well, why did you have to turn on me then?"

"You were insulting Ron! And he actually is my friend!"

Our voices are getting louder now, and it's only a matter of time before someone pokes their head into the aisle to see what's going on.

"Well, if you'd rather be friends with a Weasley than with me, fine!"

"Fine!" I spit and stomp off, angry tears burning in my eyes. Stupid Malfoy. Why does he have to be such a git! I'm never going to talk to him again. But as I make my way back to my compartment some of the anger pours out of me and is replaced by guilt and sadness. I don't want to go back inside where Ron and Hermione will ask me why I'm crying so I sit down in the hallway and stare out the window feeling miserable.

After a few minutes, I've calmed down enough to wash my face and return. Hermione and Neville are still playing gobstones and so I just sit there for the remainder of the train ride, battling with mixed feelings of pride and regret.

When we arrive I give both Neville and Hermione a quick hug and then I sprint off into my mother's arms.

"Hey, honey!"

I smile up at her.

"I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too", she smiles and gives me another hug. As the two of us head towards the Floo, I do my best to ignore the blonde boy standing a little way of with his parents.

"Get up, get up, get up Mom!" I scream as I jump into her bed. It's Christmas morning, six in the morning, and I'm wide awake.

"It's Christmas!" I shout trying to convey the importance of her getting up immediately. I love Christmas more than sleep. It's quite far on the top of a very short list of things that I like more than sleep.

"Good morning" my mother mutters, her eyes still closed. "Is it really Christmas? I don't think so. I think you've gotten confused and I should sleep at least another hour."

"Noooo!", I shout and start tickling her. She laughs and soon the two of us are in a tickling match that ends in a draw, both of us laughing on the floor.

"Yay! You're up. Presents!"

She laughs and ruffles my hair as if it weren't already a huge mess from our tickle battle.

"You think I got you presents? You must be delusional."

I look at her, my eyes wide in mock shock.

"What kind of a horrible mother wouldn't get her favourite daughter Christmas presents?"

"You make a good point. Alright. Race you there."

She's up in a flash, out the door and I sprint after her.

"Not fair! You cheated."

The two of us storm into the living room at almost the same time and I hold my breath as I take in the beautifully decorated room. There is a large tree standing near the mantelpiece and it's glittering gold and red, with a little angel on top.

"Gryffindor colours", I grin and she chuckles.

"I thought you might like it. Check out the back."

I walk around the tree and see that this side is decorated in silver and green. Slytherin colours. I laugh.

"Sneaky," I say as I grin at my mom.

"I know. It's a Slytherin thing" she winks at me.

"Presents?"

"Presents!"

My mom got me new running shoes, waterproof, a beautiful warm cloak and warm gloves because she knows that my hands are always cold. Hermione got me a book about Dragons, probably because I once mentioned that I like them, Harry got me a red and gold scarf, and Ron got me chocolate. I laugh at that one because it's exactly what I thought it would be. Neville got me a silver woven bracelet and I smile as I put it on. My mother raises an eyebrow.

"Who's that from? An admirer?"

I blush and shake my head.

"No! It's just from Neville."

"It's awfully pretty", she says but doesn't push the matter any further. I have to agree, it really is pretty. I put it on my left wrist. My mom pulls a small gift out from behind her back and hands it to me. I give her a curious look, but I'm not one to complain about more presents. I quickly unwrap it. It's a small oval locket with a beautifully crafted golden lion on a ruby background. I lift it to my face in awe.

"It's beautiful", I whisper and my mother gives me a small smile.

"It was your father's."

Suddenly my throat feels tight and I throw myself at my mother, giving her a hard hug which she returns. We sit there like that for a while, then I pull away and whisper a quick thank you as I put the locket around my neck. It's so beautiful.

My mother and I spend a beautiful Christams together, playing outside in the snow, building snowmen, which my mother animates and they chase us around our yard. At night I sink into bed, completely exhausted but happy as can be. My eyes wander over to the tiny package sitting on my nightstand, a present I bout for Draco before we had our fight. I didn't send it, but I kind of wish I had. I don't want to fight anymore. I climb out of bed and grab a piece of parchment.

"Dear Draco,

Sorry for being a brat, even if you were one too…

I still want to be your friend.

Merry Christmas,

Alicia.

I add the note to the little package and send it off with Margaret, our family ow. My heart feels just a little bit lighter as I watch the owl disappear into the night.

I don't really expect a reply the next day, but the end of the holidays creeps closer and still I've heard nothing. When the last day of holidays arrives without a reply from Draco I feel incredibly disappointed.

"Alright Alicia. What's wrong? You've been playing with your peas for ten minutes."

I sigh and look up at my mother who looks worried. She's right. Playing with food isn't normal for me. Usually I inhale it.

"Remember that boy I told you about, Draco?"

She nods.

"Well… we sort of had a fight right before the holidays…and I wrote him an apology but he hasn't replied yet."

I stare down at my plate, holding back the tears of disappointment that are burning in my eyes. My mother sighs and I look up. She gives me a soft smile.

"Sometimes it's hard for people to swallow their pride. Being angry is easier than being forgiving. What did you two fight about?"

"He doesn't get along with my friend Ron… the two of them argued and I took Ron's side and then Draco made fun of me and called me ghost. And then he wished me a good holiday as if nothing happened and I…" I shuffle my foot, embarrassed.

"And you?" My mother's voice is patient but stern.

"And then I told him to shove his holiday up his butt", I mumble, knowing fully well that she is going to be disappointed with me. She sighs and I carefully glance up.

"From your demeanour I can tell that you know that that was not a nice thing to say. It's very understandable that Draco's upset."

"But I apologized! And he didn't!"

"Yes, that is true, and I'm not saying that the way he acted was alright. But you acted just as badly. You see that, don't you?"

I nod, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She gives me a smile.

"What's done is done. You have apologized and from now on you will treat him with the kindness you expect in return. Now eat your food."

I do as I am told, but my mind is on the next day and my return to Hogwarts where I'll see Draco again. I wonder if he'll even talk to me.

On the train ride back to the castle I thank Hermione for the book and she thanks me for hers in return. I got her one on the Theory of Time. She tells me that she's already read it and that she thinks it's fascinating. When I try to thank Neville for the bracelet he blushes redder than a Weasley.

"Youu..uu like it?"

"I love it! See I'm wearing it right now!" I say as I hold up my left wrist to show the glittering bracelet. He blushes even more and smiles.

"I liked your scarf too", he mumbles.

The rest of the train ride is uneventful and finally we see Hogwarts rising up in front of us and I feel excited at the prospect of seeing Harry and Ron again. I glance around and I catch a glimpse of Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, but he doesn't even look my way. I swallow down the lump in my throat and quickly follow Hermione and Neville through the entrance.

I can barely contain my surprise when Harry tells us that he too found the mirror. When he tells us that the mirror has been moved I feel my heart clench in my chest. I've been planning on visiting it again now that I'm back, to try and see what it all meant but now I can't. Harry's words, that the mirror shows us our deepest, most desperate desires, frightens me, because I don't understand what I saw.

But there seems to be at least one good thing, now that I'm back. Ron, Harry and Hermione still haven't found out who Nicolas Flamel is and it seems that they are starting to give up on that task, which means that they'll stop dragging me with them into the library. Harry still insists that he's read the name somewhere before, but as the term starts the hunt for Nicolas Flamel fades into the back of their minds.

We hardly see Harry anymore now that Quidditch practice has started again. I feel really bad for him on all those days that the team is practicing in the endless rain that has replaced the snow. Then again the rain affects me as well, I think as I run around the lake, grateful for my new water repellent shoes. Ever since I've come back from the holidays I've been running every morning before breakfast. It's no longer just dreams that haunt me, but also the image I saw in the mirror. It's driving me mad! I need to know why I saw what I saw, but no plausible answer appear, and so I run. I run to forget the mirror and I run to forget that Draco still isn't speaking to me. I guess it's better than the alternative of him being mean to me, the way he is to Harry, but it still hurts.

I finish my final lap and start back towards the castle, covered from head to toe in mudd. Draco didn't come. Again. I keep expecting for him to show up as he used to but he doesn't and I guess it's time to accept the fact that our friendship is over. I perform a quick cleansing spell, curtesy from Hermione once again, before I head into the castle. Filch is on the war path with the students and the dirt and I don't really feel like being on the receiving end of his wrath.

After classes Ron, Hermione and I are sitting in the common room. Ron and I are playing chess. Hermione refuses to play, because it's the only thing she ever loses at. I think it might be good for her every once in a while, but I hold my tongue. Harry is at Quidditch practice. The portrait hole opens and he comes in, his expression stormy.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," Ron says as Harry sits down next to him, "I need to concen –" He too finally notices Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly, so no one else will hear, Harry tells us that Snape has developed the sudden desire to be the Quidditch referee for the next match.

"Don't play," Hermione says at once.

"Say you're ill" Ron says.

"Or you could pretend to break your leg," I suggest, half kidding.

"Really break your leg," Ron says and I look at him.

"I can't," Harry says, sounding miserable. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

I'm about to tell him that that's still better than him dying during the match, I haven't quite recovered from the panic I felt during his last one, when Neville topples into the common room. I wonder how he managed to climb through the portrait hole, because his legs are stuck together with what I recognize at once as the Leg-Locker-Curse. He must have bunny hopped all the way up to the Gryffindor Tower!

Everyone starts laughing expect for Hermione and I. As I rush over to Neville's side, Hermione performs the countercurse. Neville's legs spring apart and I help him to his feet. He's trembling.

"What happened?" I ask as I lead him over to the others.

"Malfoy," Neville says shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

I feel anger rising in my chest.

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urges Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shakes his head.

"I don't want more trouble,", he mumbles.

"You have to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron says furiously. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"Ron!" I say, looking at him in outrage.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville chockes out.

"Don't listen to him!", I say feeling even more angry now than I was before. How dare he?

Harry hands a Chocolate Frog to Neville who looks like he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy" Harry says and I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. "The Sorting hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

I bristle at the comment, but as I watch Neville's lips twitch into a weak smile as he unwraps the frog, I decide to let it slide.

"Thanks, guys… I think I'll go to bed… D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Harry takes the card and Neville walks away, I get up and head toward the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?" Hermione calls after me.

"To teach Malfoy a lesson", I say and before anyone can say anything else, I'm through the portrait hole.

I find Malfoy and his trolls in the library. They are sitting at a table, sniggering…about Neville I assume and I storm over, my eyes furious. Malfoy looks up in surprise as I approach his table, his eyes suddenly uncertain.

"What do you want?", Crabbe snarls but I ignore him.

"Malfoy. A word?"

He hesitates but then gets up and follows me out of the library.

"What?" he asks, his voice suddenly sulky.

Somehow this makes me even angrier.

"What's your problem?", I ask, my voice hard. "Why are you acting like a complete jerk? Neville has never done anything to you!"

"It's none of your business", he snaps at me.

"Neville is my friend. So it is my business! And you are acting like a complete arse! I don't even know why I wanted to be friends with you in the first place."

My voice had started out strong, but with the last sentence it becomes no more than a whisper as my eyes fill with tears.

"I don't know why either", I hear a soft voice say and I look up at Draco. He looks sad…somehow.

"Because I like you."

"But why?"

"Because… I don't know! Because I could talk to you…and you're funny… and I don't know. I just do ok."

I glare up at him only to find a shy smile there.

"I like you too… Can we be friends again? Please? I will be nicer to Longbottom."

I nod.

"Ok. But you have to say you're sorry to him."

He looks like he's going to refuse, then he nods stiffly.

"I will."

"Thank you" I give him another smile.

"I liked your present by the way", he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm actually wearing it now."

He moves his robes so I can see the blue sweater I picked out for him. It matches his eyes just as I thought it would. I give him a big smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

Things are different now. Draco and I, we're friends. Still only in private, but he hasn't insulted me even once and Neville confides in me, with wide eyes, that Draco mumbled an apology at the end of potions class. Barely audible and without eye contact, but an apology all the same. The only thing that hasn't changed is his behaviour when it comes to Harry and Ron, and there isn't much I seem to be able to do about it. Our restored friendship is too new and fragile for me to demand too much too soon.

So the weeks go by with me being friends with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville out in the open, goofing around in the common room and playing exploding snap. And in the mornings I spend time with Draco, simply walking around the lake, talking.

"What's your favourite colour?"

We are sitting on one of the big grey boulders, our feet dangling over the lake water, playing our question and answer game. I think about the question, trying to decide. My favourite colour changes a lot.

"Today it's blue because blue is gentle, but it's also strong, you know? Kind of like the ocean."

"That sounds nice… Mine. Well, I want to say green, like the Slytherin colours, but that makes me sound lame doesn't it? "I nod and he laughs. "Well, then I pick yellow."

"Yellow?"

"Yeah, because it's pretty and reminds me of the sun." Then with a mischievous glint in his eye he adds. "And if you combine it with blue you get green, like Slytherin."

We both laugh at that.

"You're impossible", I say kiddingly and he sticks his tongue out at me.

"Am not."

The sun is starting to rise, a pale yellow orb, half hidden by clouds.

"Can I ask you something?"

He nods and I bite my lip, nervous.

"Why do you dislike Ron and Harry so much?"

Immediately his shoulders tense up and he avoids looking at me.

"They don't like me either." He says defensively and I sigh and decide to drop it for now.

"Let's go get breakfast", he suddenly says and gets up. I tense up, afraid that I've scared him away again, but he turns around and holds out his hand to help me up.

"Thanks", I mumble.

"Race you!" and with that he dashes off. I am hot on his heels.

* * *

Ron, Harry and Hermione aren't much fun to be around anymore. Ever since they discovered that Nicolas Flamel created the Sorcerer's Stone and that that must be what's hiding beneath Fluffy's feet, they haven't shut up about it. I'm growing tired of it. I never really cared that much in the first place, but now it's starting to annoy me. So I spend more time with Neville instead.

The two of us are sitting in the common room, playing chess, and I am trying really hard to let Neville win. After a while, I start to suspect that he may be doing the same because no one can be that bad.

"Are you trying to let me win?" I ask and he blushes furiously. I start laughing and he looks at me, his face uncertain.

"What's so funny?"

"Well… I was kinda doing the same. So I just thought we're two idiots sitting here trying to lose at chess."

He grins and then starts laughing as well.

"I guess we are. Wanna do something else?"

It's the first time Neville has taken the initiative and I'm pleasantly surprised.

"Sure! What did you have in mind?"

"Well…" he looks down at his hands, "I thought we could maybe go explore a little. I mean, it's not curfew yet…so I thought.." he mumbles into his lap.

"That sounds brilliant!" I beam at him and he timidly returns the smile.

The two of us head out the portrait hole, just as Ron, Hermione and Harry head in, arguing about exams.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away," Ron complains.

"Ten weeks," I hear Hermione snap as they pass us and I chuckle.

"As much as those two argue I wouldn't be surprised if they ended up married," I tell Neville with a smile.

"You think so? I don't think they like each other very much."

"Well, I was kidding, but they do like each other. I think they're just both very different and sometimes people have a hard time accepting things, or people that are different. That's what my mom says."

Neville seems to ponder this and then nods.

"I think your mom is right. I'm different, and no one likes me much either."

I don't think he meant to say it that way, but I put a hand on his arm and make him look at me.

"I like you, Neville. You're my friend."

He smiles at me and the two of us head off to explore the castle.

Our little excursion ends up being cut short when we run into Professor Snape right outside the Great Hall.

"Ah yes. Miss Morgan. A word please?"

Neville looks at me uncertain and I nod, letting him know that it's ok. I follow Snape into his office where he pull out a chair for me to sit in as he takes a seat on the other side of his desk.

"I take it your mother is well?" he asks me, his voice distant but perfectly pleasant, none of the venom in it that he seems to reserve for Harry.

"She is, Sir."

"Good. Now you're most likely wondering what I pulled you in here for, aren't you? Yes. I wish to discuss your potions essay, the one the Forgetfulness Potion. I want you to answer me honestly, understood?"

I wonder what this is all about, but I nod. "Yes, Sir."

"Did you copy this down from one of the older students?"

His words take me completely by surprise and for a moment I can't find my words.

"No, sir! Of course not. I would never…" my voice fades weakly as I look up into those stern black eyes. Eyes that seem to see into my very mind and then Snape pulls back with a start, his hand shooting to his head as if he's in pain.

"Are you alright, Sir?", I ask in concern, but he just stares at me, his face unreadable.

"I believe you. It's exceptional work. You are dismissed."

Before I even know what's happened I'm out of the classroom and the door is shut behind me. What was that? My head hurts a little and I rub my forehead, trying to make it go away. I come up the stairs and almost walk past Neville who is waiting for me.

"What did he want?" he asks, his voice concerned.

"Uhm…to talk about my essay."

"Was it bad?"

"Hm?" I ask, trying to ignore the pounding in my skill.

"Was it bad? The talk, you don't look so good Lisha."

"Yeah, I don't…" and the rest is lost as the world around me turns black.

* * *

I am sitting in a large field of small purple flowers that are waving gently in the wind. I am wearing a beautiful white dress. The sun is shining brightly down onto my skin and I tilt my head towards it, smiling.

"Hello little one."

The voice is soft and raspy, but somehow inhuman. I turn around, feeling completely at ease and look at the woman standing there. She is beautiful, in strange way. She is very tall, with hair the colour of freshly cut grass, her skin is a soft brown and her lips a rosy pink, but her eyes, her eyes remind me of the cold and dark universe, shimmering with galaxies. She is powerful, I know this, but I am not afraid as she gently sits down beside me, her long white robes billowing around her.

"Hello" I say, my voice sounding like that of a grown woman, despite the fact that I am in my elven- year old body. "Who are you?"

The woman reaches over and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Her touch is cool and soothing.

"Call me Ceann-uidhe."

"That's a strange name", I say, not at all feeling as if this were rude. The woman chuckles.

"It is indeed."

"Where am I?"

"Outside of time."

Somehow this answer doesn't surprise or confuse me, because I can feel that it is the truth. I am outside of time.

"I like it here", I say and she laughs again. It sounds musical.

"I expected you to… But you cannot stay little one."

"Oh…" I say, feeling a little bit disappointed. It is rather nice here after all.

Her dark eyes look past me and I follow her gaze. There, at the edge of the field stands a woman. She has long white hair and pale skin, but her eyes, her eyes are the colour of sapphires. The woman holds out her hand to me and I get up and walk towards her. Then I slowly turn around.

"I am waiting." I say to Ceann-uidhe and she smiles.

"That you are."

* * *

I wake up in the hospital wing, my head no longer hurting, but more confused than ever. I think back on the dream, but even as I'm trying to remember it, it fades away until I'm left with nothing feeling. This dream was nothing like the others. I can tell just from the way I feel now. Calm and peaceful.

"Ah miss Morgan! Awake at last. Mister Longbottom will be relieved. He was in quite the state when he came to fetch me, he was quite adamant that Professor Snape had hurt you."

"He didn't", I mumble, looking around the room, completely disoriented.

"Of course he didn't! I told Mister Longbottom as much, but he was in quite the state. Understandable, after you fainted like that."

"I fainted?"

"Yes you did. Do you remember what happened before?"

I think back. "Professor Snape spoke to me about my essay and then he dismissed me and I… Well I had this really bad headache."

"Hm, hm. Exhaustion I assume. Well you should be completely fine now, so you can head outside and let Mister Longbottom know that you are alive. Don't overdo yourself again."

Neville really is outside the hospital wing, waiting, and his face brightening as he sees me.

"Are you alright?" He asks me worriedly.

"I'm fine. Madame Pomfrey reckons it was just exhaustion."

"Oh, ok. I'm glad."

He gives me another one of his timid smiles and I return it.

* * *

The Easter Holidays come and go, and I am about ready to collapse. Everywhere I turn, students are fretting about the upcoming exams, and I am no exception. It doesn't matter that I'm a good student, one of the best, and that I feel like I already know the stuff, I am still terrified. I hate tests. They make me anxious. Hermione isn't helping either. She is constantly reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. More than once I have to duck to avoid having my eye taken out. The five of us, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Neville and I spend most of our time in the library, trying to get through all the extra work the teachers have given us.

"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Ron's voice startles me and I look up from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi to see Hagrid shuffling into view, hiding something behind his back. He looks very much out of place in hi moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he says, in a shifty voice that gets our itnerst at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He suddenly looks suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

Not this again!

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," Ron says impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St –"

"Ssssss!" Hagrid looks around quickly to see if anyone is listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with ye?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy –"

"SHHHHH!", Hagrid says again. "Listen – come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell ye anythin' mind, but don't go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh – "

"See you later, then", Harry says and Hagrid shuffles off. I try to return to my textbook, not exactly looking forward to the next Stone discussion that I'm sure is about to start.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" Hermione asks thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" Harry asks.

"I'm going to see what section he was in", Ron says and gets up.

Neville turns towards me and whispers: "What are they talking about? What's a Sorcer Stone?"

"Sorcerer's Stone" I correct him. "It's supposed to turn stuff into gold and grant eternal life. They're convinced that there is one here at school." I think they're right, but I'm not going to add that.

Ron comes back with a pile of books in his arms and slams them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispers. "Hagrid is looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him," Harry says.

"He wants a dragon? As a pet?" Neville asks, his nose just a little paler than before.

"But it's against our laws", Ron says. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden – anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romaina."

I stare at him with wide eyes then I turn towards Hermione.

"I think he's been hanging around you too much", I say,"there's smart stuff coming out of his mouth."

Ron blushes and sticks his tongue out at me, as Harry and Neville grin. Neville looks over at Ron, his face a bit worried.

"There aren't wild dragons in Britain right?"

"Of course there are" Ron replies. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth is Hagrid up to?" Hermione asks.

As Hermione, Ron and Harry head to Hagrid's, Neville and I decide to go play another round of chess. This time we're both going to try and win. I don't know why I can't quite bring myself to share the trio's enthusiasm about the Sorcerer's Stone, but I simply don't. Maybe it's because I don't dislike Professor Snape anymore. The waves of hate that used to wash over me during potions classes, and were a constant battle for me, have stopped and I find that he can be a great professor. When he isn't picking on Harry, that is. I don't understand that.

"Lisha, it's your turn."

I look up at Neville. I've been so lost in my thoughts that I don't even know what his last move was.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Was thinking."

"What were you thinking about?"

I look into those big brown eyes, completely innocent, and I have to smile a little bit. I like Neville. I wish more people were like him. Not so clumsy maybe, but kind hearted.

"I was thinking about Hermione and the boys… They've been a bit distant lately."

Neville frowns and his eyes grow more serious.

"You don't think they're getting into trouble again? Like with that three-headed dog, do you?"

I shake my head and Neville relaxes, but I'm not convinced. Actually I'm pretty sure that their obsession with the Sorcerer's Stone will get them into loads of trouble.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12

I stare at the piece of paper Hermione has just pressed into my hand, then up at her.

"What is this?"

I know what it is, I just don't want it to be what I know that it is.

"Your study schedule. I made one for Ron and Harry too, so you stop wasting your time. How else will you ever be ready?"

She walks off without giving me the chance to reply and I sigh, resigned to my fate. Not following the plan just isn't worth the hassle. Everyone else has already made their way down for breakfast but I'm still waiting for Neville.

"Finally" I shout as he appears in the common room. "I'm starving!"

He gives me an embarrassed smile and the two of us rush to the Great Halle, me pulling Neville along, because he's not fast enough for my stomach. I plop down next to Harry and dig in. Mmmm! Cinnamon rolls! Suddenly there's a bird in my face.

"Ah! Hedwig! Get out of my plate!"

The beautiful owl ignores me completely and doesn't leave until Harry has taken the note attached to her leg and caressed her head. Finally the bird takes off and I can return to my food…My now feathery food.

"Your owl ruined my food!"

I give Harry an angry glare. I don't like people, or birds, messing with my food. He just shrugs and reads the note. He then passes it to Hermione and Ron and the three of them exchange meaningful looks. I reckon this has something to do with what happened at Hagrid's. They've been strange and evasive ever since.

"We should skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut!" Ron says excitedly. Now I'm curious too, and I lean in to listen as I grab a non-feathery cinnamon roll from Harry's plate.

"Absolutely not!" Hermione is shaking her head furiously.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

I nearly choke on my cinnamon roll and Neville has to pat me on the back. Hard. Did Ron just say Dragon? And hatching? They've got to be kidding me. Hagrid got himself a dragon? I like the giant man, but his lack of sense never ceases to astound me.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to do what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing – "

"Shut up!" Harry whispers furiously and his eyes wander past Hermione to where Draco is standing. The look on Draco's face tells me that he might just have heard what's happening. I frown. I want to believe that he won't do anything, but knowing him and his attitude towards Harry, I doubt he'll pass up the opportunity to get him into trouble.

On my way down to Herbology I turn around to ask Hermione something and realize that she is gone. I sigh.

"So Ron won the argument" I mutter.

"What?" Neville looks at me.

"Oh nothing…. Let's get to class."

The next morning I'm out for a run again, hoping to see Draco, but he doesn't show up. So I think about when I fainted. By now Snape has returned our essays and I've got full marks and a little footnote complimenting me for my "exceptional work beyond your years." I'm not sure what to make of it. Snape obviously thought that I cheated at first, and my argument against it hadn't been particularly eloquent, but he still believed me. Still it the comment irks me. Why beyond my years? He's not the first teacher to say something like that. Professor McGonagall just recently asked me if my mother has been telling me third year spells and that it can be dangerous to perform them without proper preparation. Except, my mother never has skipped ahead in anything. So why do I know the Draconifors Spell?

But that's not the only thing on my mind at the moment. I feel like there's something that I'm missing. Something that will explain my weird dreams and visions of people. Draco for example. The more I get to know him, the more I like him, but he's not the person I see in my dreams. In the dreams he is gentle, soft-spoken, kind and strong. The Draco I know is arrogant, insecure at times and snarky. Maybe it's the age. Maybe the Draco in my dreams is who this Draco will turn into, but somehow I don't see it happening, and I don't want to. Dream Draco is fine for dream me, but I? I like the real Draco. He's my friend even though he can be a complete idiot.

I complete my final round and head back towards the castle, still feeling frustrated and as if the answer is right there, under the surface, waiting for me to pull it through.

The following week drags by and still I haven't been able to speak to Draco. He is avoiding me, that much is clear, but I don't know why. I keep going over the last time we spoke. We had fun didn't we? I didn't say anything stupid, or did? My brain is going in circles trying to figure out what I could have done wrong and it comes up empty. So it's not me. It's his fault.

So here I am, on a Wednesday night, pouting in the common room long after most have gone to bed. I can't sleep, not in the mood I'm in, so I just stare out of the window while Harry and Hermione chat away nervously. They are waiting for Ron I presume. The clock on the wall chimes midnight as the portrait hole bursts open and Ron appears out of nowhere. He must have been wearing Harry's cloak of Invisibility.

"It bit me!" Ron says, showing Harry and Hermione his hand. I get up and move over to take a look. The handkerchief wrapped around it is all bloody.

"I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a little fluffy bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

"Does it hurt?"

Ron looks up at me and straightens ab it.

"Well yeah, but not a lot, you know. I've had worse."

"You've had worse than a dragon bite?" Hermione asks, one eyebrow raised Ron blushes.

There's a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" harry cries out, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer."

"Charlie?" I ask Hermione.

"Ron's brother works with dragons. We asked him if he can take Norbert."

"Norbert?"

"Oh yeah. That's the name Hagrid gave his dragon."

"He called the poor thing Norbert? I would be biting people too…" I mumble but the three of them are already busy reading the note and I decide to head to bed. I'm going to be tired enough tomorrow as it is.

The day's pass by and Ron, who had to go to the hospital wing for his hand, still hasn't returned. It seems that sweet little Norbert not only has a nasty temper, but also poisonous fangs. Figured. I am sitting in the common room on Saturday night, writing a letter to my mom. It's already pretty late, but I just can't make up my mind about whether or not I should tell her about all that's been happening with me. The nightmares come and go and each of them brings me closer to the edge. I don't know what will happen if I am pushed over, but the thought terrifies me. Something is wrong… But I don't know what my mother can do about it. I stare out the window, trying to make up my mind.

The portrait hole opens and I look up in surprise, wondering who on earth would be coming back this late, when Neville tumbles into the common room. His face is flushed.

"Are Harry, Ron and Hermione here?" he sounds almost frantic.

I shake my head.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no. I hear Malfoy. He's going to get them in trouble for having a dragon!"

His eyes are wide in distress and I feel my chest clench as well. Draco is still avoiding me and, although I don't want to, I know there is no way that he will pass up getting Harry and Ron in t rouble.

"We have to go warn them!"

The two of us head out the portrait hole.

"Do you know where they are going?"

Neville shakes his head and I swear. The best thing I can come up with is to catch them on their way back from Hagrid's and so we head towards the Entrance Hall, keeping to the shadows. But they aren't there.

"What now?" Neville whispers and I wish I knew. I shrug.

"Maybe we're too late, maybe they're already back in the common – "

I never get to finish that sentence.

"Aha! Students out of bed! You are in trouble."

We turn and come face to face with Filch, his face split into a wide smile that makes Neville gulp. I feel my heart sink. At least now I know exactly what I won't be writing my mother about.

Filch takes us up to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where Harry, Hermione are already waiting.

"Harry!" Neville bursts out, the moment he sees him and I wish he would just shut up. "We were trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag – "

This time I do jab Neville with my elbow and he blessedly shuts up, but Professor McGonagall has seen. She looks just as likely to breathe fire as any Dragon as she towers over the four of us. I can actually feel myself shrinking under her gaze.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves!"

I think this may be the first time Hermione has ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She is staring at McGonagall's slippers, still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," Professor McGonagall says. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom and Morgan here heard the story and believed it, too?"

I feel Neville shift next to me and glance up. He looks stunned and hurt.

"I'm disgusted! Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detentions – yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous – and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasps as I stare at McGonagall in horror.

"Fifty points each!" She says, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor – please – you can't" I start but her glare shuts me up.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Morgan. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students.

Two hundred points lost. That puts Gryffindor in last place. Who am I kidding, we're probably writing red numbers at the moment. In one night, we've ruined any chance Gryffindor had for the House Cup. I feel as if the bottom had dropped out of my stomach. And angry. So angry. Why couldn't Harry and Hermione ever just let things be? Why did they always have to meddle with things that didn't concern them? I wish I hadn't tried to warn them. From now on I'm not going to help them anymore. Let them get into trouble, not my problem, I think angrily as I try to sleep.

The next morning isn't as bad as I expected. It's worse. At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that record the House points think there's been a mistake. How could we suddenly have two hundred points fewer than yesterday? And then the story starts to spread: Harry potter and his friends have lost all those points. No one speaks with us anymore, not even the other Houses because they wanted Slytherin to lose the House Cup. Everywhere we go, people point and don't trouble to lower their voices as they insult us. It's so bad that Hermione doesn't even try to draw attention to herself in class, keeping her head down instead. But Harry has it worse. He has Slytherins clapping and thanking him. The only other first year who isn't ignoring us is Ron, which doesn't impress me as this is as much his fault as Harry and Hermione's. I'm not talking to any of them.

The following morning at the breakfast table Harry, Hermione, Neville and I receive notes. They are all the same:

Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.

Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

\- Professor McGonagall

At eleven o'clock that night the four of us head down to the entrance hall with me pointedly ignoring both Harry and Hermione. They've tried to apologize but I'm not quite there yet. I would never have gotten in trouble if it weren't for them. I'm more upset for him than I am for myself. Filch is already there – and so is Malfoy. He looks up at me but I just give him an icy stare.

"Follow me," Filch says, lighting a lamp and leading us outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he says, leering at us. That guy gives me the creeps. "Oh yes … hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me… It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well-oiled in case they're ever needed… Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

I doubt Hogwarts had anyone chained in Filch's lifetime, but I keep that thought to myself as we march across the dark grounds. Neville keeps sniffing and I wonder what our punishment is going to be. It has to be horrible, or Filch wouldn't sound so excited.

The moon is bright, but clouds scudding across it keep throwing us into darkness. Ahead, I can see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then we hear a distant shout.

"Is that you, filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

I can't believe this! It's Hagrid fault any of us are even here in the first place. Filch turns towards Harry who looks clearly relieved.

"I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy – it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville lets out a little moan, and Malfoy stops dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeats, as if we hadn't all heard it quite clearly. "We can't go in there at night – there's all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I heard."

If I'm not mistaken his voice just rose nearly an octave there near the end. Neville clutches my sleeve and makes a choking noise. I give his hand a soft squeeze, trying to ignore my own fear.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Filch says, his voice cracking with glee. The man is most definitely a sadist. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid comes striding towards us out of the dark, his dog Fang at his heel. He is carrying a large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hangs at his side.

"Abou' time," he says. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour alreay. All right, Harry, Hermione?"

"You shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch says coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all. I'll be back at dawn," Filch says, "for what's left of them," he adds nastily, and turns back toward the castle.

Malfoy turns to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest!" I should feel bad about how pleased I am to hear a note of panic in his voice, but I'm not.

"Yeh are if ye want ter stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid says fiercely. "Ye've done wrong an' now ye've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd - "

" – tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid cuts him off. "If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy doesn't move but looks at Hagrid furiously. Finally he drops his gaze.

"Right then. Now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He leads us to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he points down a narrow, winding earth track that disappears into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifts my hair as I look into the forest. I have to fight the panic rising in my chest. I don't want to go in there. It's not because of werewolves, it's not a full moon anyways, but because there is something in there. Something vile. I can feel it.

"Look there," Hagrid says and I tear my gaze from the swaying trees. "See that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy says, his voice mirroring my own fear.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," says the man who wanted a pet dragon. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at the least."

2I want Fang," Malfoy says quickly.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward. So Harry, Draco and Alicia and Fang'll go one way, Hermione, Neville and I the other. Now, if any of us find the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now – that's it – an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, and we'll all come an' find yeh – so, be careful – let's go."

The forest is black and silent, but I can feel it, moving all around me. A little way into it we reach a fork in the earth and Harry, Draco and I head left, away from the others. The three of us walk in silence, our eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight trough the branches above lights a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

We continue into the heart of the forest, waling for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path becomes almost impossible to follow because the trees are so thick. It seems to me that the blood is getting thicker. There are splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature has been thrashing around in pain close by. There is a clearing ahead.

"Look –"Harry murmurs, holding out his arm to stop us. Something bright white is gleaming on the ground and we inch closer.

I catch my breath when we're close enough to see it. It's the unicorn, and it is dead. I have never seen anything so beautiful and sad. It's long, slender legs are stuck out at odd angles where it has fallen and its mane is spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. I feel tears gather in my eyes as I take in the graceful creature.

Harry takes one step toward it when a slithering sound makes all of us freeze where we stand. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivers… Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure comes crawling cross the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Draco, Fang and I all stand transfixed. A part of my mind tells me to move, to run, but I can't. The cloaked figure reaches the unicorn, lowers its head over the wound in the animals side, and begins to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy lets out a terrible scream and bolts – so does Fang. The hooded figure raises its head and looks right at us – unicorn blood dribbling down its front. It gets to its feet and comes swiftly toward us. My mind screams at me to grab Harry and run, then all is drowned out by pain. Pain shooting through my chest, making me fall to the ground, shivering. A memory flies by but I can't grasp it, can't touch it. I feel Harry move beside me, staggering back, trying to pull me along, but I can't move. I hear hooves behind me, galloping, and something jumps clean over our heads, charging at the figure.

It takes a minute or two for the pain to pass and when I look up the figure is gone. I look over at Harry who is holding his hand to his forehead, and realize that mine is pressed over my chest. I drop it quickly and look to the strange creature standing in front of us. A centaur, if I'm not mistaken; he has white- blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right? The centaur asks us, pulling Harry to his feet. Slowly I stagger to my own, breathing heavily. What was that? I have never felt that way before, but as the thought crosses my mind I somehow feel as if that's not true.

"Yes – thank you – what was that?" Harry asks

The centaur doesn't answer. I look at him an notice that he has astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looks carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stands out on Harry's forehead. Then his gaze falls on me and something in his eyes makes me shiver.

"You are the Potter boy, "he says. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time – especially for you." Despite the fact that he is talking to Harry, his eyes rest on me for that last part. Then he turns back to Harry. "Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"My name is Firenze," he adds, as he lowers himself on to his front legs so Harry and I can clamber onto his back. Firenze whisks around; and I grab Harry as best I can as we plunge off into the trees.

"What is that thing you saved us from?" Harry asks.

Firenze slows to a walk, warning us to keep our heads bowed in case of low hanging branches, but does not answer Harry's question. We make our way through the trees in silence for so long that I'm beginning to think that Firenze doesn't want to talk to us anymore. We are passing through a particularly dense patch of trees when Firenze suddenly stops.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," Harry says. "We've only used the horn and tail in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only on who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

I stare at the Harry's back, wondering who would want such a life when Harry asks the question for me.

"Who'd be that desperate? If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agrees. "Unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course – the elixir of Life! But I don't understand who- "Harry drifts off, but I feel a cold shudder run down my spine despite the fact that I can't see who would wish for such a life.

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

I barely register Harry stiffening as an iron fist clenches around my heart. There is only one person that fits with Firenze's words, and if that person isn't dead as we all believe… I don't even want to think about it.

"Do you mean," Harry croaks, "that was Vol – "

"Harry! Lisha! Are you all right?"

Hermione is running toward us down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"We're fine," Harry says, but I hardly hear him. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmurs as Hagrid hurries off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slides off his back and helps me down.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," Firenze says. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He gives me a long look and a nod, then he turns and canters back into the depths of the forst, leaving us behind. I wrap my arms around myself, but nothing can keep me from shivering. He's not dead, I think, over and over again, and I don't know why, but I feel as if I should be remembering something important.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

I don't know how I managed to get through exams when half of me was preoccupied with what had happened in the forest and Voldemort. Still the days creep by and nothing happens and I wonder if perhaps I just imagined it all. That it was just one of my dreams.

It is sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where we have to write our exams. We've been given special, new quills for the exams, which have been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell. Professors are a trusting bunch, aren't they?

Malfoy and I still haven't spoken. I have seen him, once or twice, as I was running along the lake, but he hasn't approached me and I'm beginning to feel as if I've imagine our friendship too. Maybe I'm just a crazy person.

We have practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called us one by one into his class to see if we could make pineapple tap-dance across his desk. Mine does the salsa, which wasn't intentional, but I still get a good grade. Professor McGonagall watched us turns mice into snuffboxes – giving points for how pretty the snuffbox is, but taking them away if it had whiskers. I was quite pleased with my, completely whisker-free, silver snuffbox. Professor Snape had the annoying tendency to breathe down our necks, making everyone nervous, but my Forgetfulness potion received full points and I'm pleased.

Our last exam is History of magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who have invented self-stirring cauldrons. Then we're free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results come out.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," Hermione says as we join the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager. "

I roll my eyes behind her back. She always wants to go through our exams afterwards, but it makes me feel ill. We wander down to the lake and flop down under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jorden are tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which is basking in the warm shallows. I smile, feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

"No more studying," Ron sighs happily, stretching out onto the grass.

"Finally!" I say, stretching out beside him, staring up into the blue sky. Ron turns towards Harry.

"You could look more cheerful, harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

I look up and see Harry rubbing his forehead, the way he had in the forest. I don't know why, but it scares me.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he bursts out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting – it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madame Pomfrey," Hermione suggests.

"I'm not ill. I think it's a warning… it means danger is coming…"

And I know he's right. I don't know how or why I know this, but I do. Harry's scar hurting is not good. Just like the pain in my chest, which luckily hasn't returned, it's a sign that something bad is happening. I watch Harry, wondering if I should say something, tell him about what I felt in the forest, when he suddenly jumps to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Ron ask sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," Harry says, suddenly white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid now."

He takes off and we get up to follow him, when something catches my eye. Draco is sitting a little further down on our boulder and he's alone. I hesitate, Hermione, Ron and Harry are already half-way down to the hut, and finally I turn towards Draco.

"Hey…" I say as I sit down next to him. He doesn't look at me, his eyes still fixed on the water.

"Hey."

I don't know what to say. This feels awkward and I'm tempted to just get up and leave, but I don't want to. So I play with my hair, my eyes taking in the sparkle of sunlight on the lake. It looks like silver.

"How did your exams go?"

I turn towards Draco. He's still looking straight ahead, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He's nervous.

"Fine, I guess. I mean… Yours?"

"Fine."

The silence stretches between us once again, uncomfortable and thick. Finally Draco turns around, his chin pointing out stubbornly, his eyes uncertain.

"Are we still friends?"

The question takes me by surprise and as I look at him I'm not sure what kind of an answer he is hoping for.

"You tell me…. You've been avoiding me."

He blushes and lowers his gaze again.

"I didn't think… I just don't understand why you want to be friends with me."

"I don't know… I like you. Sometimes." I give him a small smile but he doesn't return it. "I mean, you can be really likeable… but… I don't know. Why did you want to be friends with me?"

"I still do," he mumbles and I feel relieved.

"Ok. Why do you want to be friends with me?"

"Because you're different… I mean you hang out with Potter and the other two, but… but you're not like them. You don't see the world in black and white and that… that's new to me. I grew up thinking that all Gryffindor's are arrogant and dumb… but you're not and… "

His voice fades, his cheeks red with embarrassment and this time when I smile at him he returns it.

"Friends?" I ask, holding out my hand.

He takes it with a relieved smile.

"Friends."

We turn back towards the lake, watching as the giant squid splashes Lee Jordan and the twins, and laugh. I glance over at Draco and I'm happy that he's my friend again.

* * *

" _Get up!"_ I jerk up, suddenly wide awake. What was that? " _Get up!"_ the voice whispers again and I look around, trying to figure out what is happening. There's a sharp pang in my chest, similar to the one I felt in the forbidden forest, but weaker. " _Harry!"_ I don't know how I know this, but Harry is in danger and I have to stop it. I have to get to him. Suddenly I'm overwhelmed with the same dread that filled me during that first Quidditch game all those months ago. I jump out of bed and dress in a hurry, black pants and a black t-shirt. The bed next to mine is empty. Hermione is with him, Ron as well undoubtedly.

I rush out in to the common room and nearly trip over something. I look down and my eyes widen in shock.

"Neville?"

He's completely stiff, his eyes staring up at me pleadingly. I bend down to help him when the voice shouts again, and this time there's no doubt about it. It's in my head.

" _There's no time! Move!"_

And so I do, leaving my friend petrified on the ground, with nothing but a mumbled apology. I rush out of the portrait hole and somehow know where to go. Harry and the other idiots are going after the Stone. I just know it, and they're in over their heads. My feet take me quietly through the corridor, with a stealth I didn't know I possessed, and I narrowly avoid being discovered by Filch and his blasted cat. Someone should really blow that thing up. The thought surprises me. It's not very like me to wish harm on anyone. But there's no time for such thoughts. I need to get to Harry before it's too late. My heart is pounding in my chest as I arrive at the door behind which, I know, awaits the three headed dog. Fluffy. Hagrid needs a better name book.

"Alohomora", I whisper and carefully open the door. Fluffy doesn't waste time and charges for me immediately. I am terrified, but somehow I move to the side, my wand jumping to my hand.

"Stupefy!" I shout, not even knowing what the spell means and the giant dog crumbles to the ground in a heap. I stare at him in shock, then down at my hand, wondering what just happened. No time to wonder! I have to get moving. The dog collapsed with a paw on the trapdoor. A quick Wingardium Leviosa takes care of the problem. Down through the trapdoor I go.

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump I land on something soft. I sit up and feel around, my eyes not used to the gloom. It feels as if I'm sitting on some sort of plant. Relief washes over me. I don't know why I just charged through that door like that, not even checking to see what's down here. I could have broken my neck. Something touches my leg and I jump as I look down. The plant has started to twist snakelike tendrils around me, binding my legs.

I watch in horror as the plant continues to capture me, squeezing my legs tighter and tighter together.

 _Stop moving._

The voice is back and I am so surprised that I do as it says. This doesn't stop the plant, however it does seem to slow it down. What is this? _Devil's Snare._ The answer pops into my mind. Devil's Snare, Professor Sprout mentioned it in class, but what did she say? The tendrils are now snaking their way around my waist and I raise my wand arm, trying to keep it out of the plants grasp. _Fire!_ I have to make a fire. I wave my wand

"Incendio!"

I don't know where the word comes from, but it works. Fire shoots out of my wand at the plant and it cringes away in a matter of seconds, loosening its grip enough for me to wiggle out. I am breathing hard, my heart beating about a hundred miles per second as I stare at the green mass that nearly choked me to death.

"I'm going to kill those idiots" I mutter.

I start down a stone passageway, the only way forward, my footsteps the only sound except for the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway slopes downward and after a while I hear a soft rustling and clinking that seems to be coming from up ahead. I am weary now, after the Devil's Snare. Whatever is up ahead, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like it.

I reach the end of the passageway and before me I see a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above me. It is full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber there is a heavy wooden door. I hesitate. They're probably going to attack me as soon as I start moving, but what choice do I have? Oh that's right. I could have stayed in my bed and let these idiots kill themselves. That's what choice I had. I sigh and start moving carefully, ready to break into a sprint, across the room. The birds leave me alone. I pull the handle of the door, but it's locked. Figures. I was hoping to catch up with the trio by now and drag them back to the common room, but they must be beyond the door.

This time Alohomora doesn't do the trick and I think that whoever made sure this door can't be opened should have done the same with Fluffy's. Alright, there has to be a way through that door. I look around, searching for a key, when one of the birds flutters past my ear and I see it more clearly for the first time. It's a key. And not only this one. They're all keys. But how do I find the right one? There must be hundreds of them!

I look back at the lock. It's big, old-fashioned and silver. So the key must be as well. There are a couple of broomsticks leaning against the wall, but I know that that won't do me any good. I'm a good flyer, but as a seeker I suck. No wonder Harry and the others made it through here so fast, he's bloody brilliant.

My hand moves, raising my wand and I hear myself calmly utter: "Accio key."

One of the key's flies into my open hand, pulled by an invisible string. I can barely believe it. It's worn and battered. I ram it into the lock and turn – it works. The moment the lock clicks open the key takes flight again, looking even more battered than before. I take a deep breath and push the door open, hoping very much that it's the last one.

The next chamber is huge and reveals an astonishing sight. I am standing at the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which are all taller than I am and carved from what looks like black stone. Facing me, way across the chamber, are the white pieces. All of them faceless. On the sides is a lot of rubble of what must have been former chess pieces and I shudder as I see something red there amongst the rubble. I rush over, fear making my chest tight as I realize that I am right.

"Ron!"

I kneel down beside the unconscious boy. He's breathing, but there's a big purple bump on his head and a small cuts covering his face. I look around for Harry and Hermione but can't find them. They left Ron behind? They wouldn't! Unless it was their only option. I get back up and start towards the door, but the chess pieces move in my way, blocking it. I take a step back and feel my insides go cold, cold and numb somehow. Calmly I raise my wand and point it at the pieces in my way.

"Confringo."

There is loud noise, like an explosion as the pieces are blasted into dust. Before the other pieces have the chance to take the place of their fallen comrades I am through the door and step thorough it, ready for the worst. There is a wall of purple fire in front of me and as I stare at it Hermione walks through. Her eyes widen as she sees me.

"Lisha? What…"

"Where's Harry?"

I am surprised by the harshness of my voice and Hermione looks affronted.

"He's going on, to stop Snape… but what are you doing here?"

I ignore her and head towards the wall.

"You can't go through there!" she shrieks, trying to grab me, but I shrug her off. There is something strange going on inside of me, something terrifying and exciting. A part of my mind is quivering in fear as I walk toward the fire, but there is another part, a part that doesn't care about the flames, or danger. A part that simply wants to get to Harry and protect him. That's the part that makes me wave my wand around myself, muttering "Protego Maxima" and with those words I throw myself through the flames.

I can feel the heat eating at my skin, stealing my breath, but then I'm through and I collapse onto the cold floor, breathing heavily. My skin is hot and raw, but I'm not burned. Not yet. Just as I start to feel relieved I spot another wall of fire in front of me, this one's black. And I know my trick won't work a second time.

"Shit" I hear myself mumble but am too exhausted to be shocked at my own language.

In-between the two fires there is a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. This is Snape's protection I assume. There is a roll of paper next to the bottles, with a riddle on it. Of course… the safest way to keep people from getting through the fire would be to write a freaking riddle. How about they'd just not write the riddle, not give people a clue and make them guess from seven bottles of which several could kill them? I am beginning to wonder if all the professors at this school are complete idiots. Alright, no time to try and figure this out. Harry's already been through here, and since I can't see his dead body, I figure he's made it through. So one of the bottles must be open already.

I look at the bottles and see that there are two that seem to have been opened before. One of them is still half full, the other one, the smallest of the seven, is empty. Of course it is… But it isn't completely empty, is it? There are still a few drops left there and a few drops is all I, or whoever is doing all this bad ass magic, need.

"Implebo" I whisper and the potion refills itself. I grin at the bottle in my hand, take a gulp. It is as if ice is flooding my body. I put the bottle down and walk forward, bracing myself as I head towards the fire. Let's just hope this works.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

As I step through those black flames something changes within me. I don't quite know what it is. It is as if I've stepped into a role, the role of a cold warrior, ready to die. A shiver runs down my spine as I realize that the sensation is not new to me, although it should be. But there is no time to think about it.

The chamber ahead is rather small and plain, with grey walls and grey floors. I feel a flicker of surprise and longing as I recognize the large mirror in the middle of the room. There are two figures in the chamber. One of them, to my surprise, is Professor Quirrell. He is facing the mirror as he speaks to the other figure, Harry, tightly wrapped by ropes. My heart clenches in fear for him. But there is something else… Someone else, I can't quite grasp the feeling.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

So Harry was right. One of the Professors really was after the Stone, but it wasn't Snape. Quirrell, the most unlikely one of them all.

"You let the troll in?" Harry gasps.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off – and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

I press myself against one of the pillars in the doorway, hoping that Quirrell won't see me. The warrior within me, the one who got me through the fire, has gone terribly quiet and I don't know what to do! I'm an eleven-year old girl who somehow made her way into a terribly dangerous situation, and now here I am; with a friend in danger, and I am helpless.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmurs, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back…"

I supress a gasp at the sudden pain in my chest. It feels tight, as if something was trying to escape.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest –"Harry blurts out and a small part of me wonders if there's any kind of trouble Harry hasn't gotten himself into.

"Yes," Quirrell says idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. I press myself further into the shadows, trying to ignore the pain that seems to have taken hold of my body. It's probably just panic, I tell myself. Just panic, because I'm in a bad, bad situation. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me – as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…"

Voldemort? Is that what I'm feeling? Voldemort's presence? Quirrell comes back out from behind the mirror and stares hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master … but where is it?"

I double over in pain, trying desperately not to make a sound, to keep Quirrell from seeing me, but I can barely think straight anymore.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much." Harry protests.

I feel like I can't breathe as every muscle in my body clenches up, trying to hold in whatever is trying to escape.

"Oh, he does," Quirrell says casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

A blade of pain shoots through me and I miss the next part of the conversation, desperately clinging on to consciousness. Don't pass out Lisha. Don't pass out….

"He is with me wherever I go," Quirrell is saying. "I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me…" Quirrell shivers. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

Quirrell's voice trails away then he curses under his breath.

"I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it? What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to my horror, a voice answers. The voice seems to come from Quirrell himself, but it is horribly familiar. Another jet of pain shoots through me at the notion of a memory and I gasp. So close… almost…almost free…

"Use the boy… Use the boy…"

Quirrell rounds on Harry. I want to rush forward, help somehow, but I'm frozen to the spot in agony, waves of pane still washing over me. I don't know how much longer I can take it.

Quirrell claps his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fall off. Harry gets to his feet slowly.

"Come here, Potter!" Quirrell commands. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walks towards him and Quirrell moves behind him. I watch Harry stare into the mirror, his back straight, his jaw set and I know that he will not help Quirrell, not even to save his own life.

"Well?" Quirrell says impatiently. "What do you see?"

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I – I've won the House Cup for Gryffindor."

He is lying. I don't know how I can tell, I just can.

"He lies… He lies…" the high voice sends shivers down my spine. "Let me speak to him … face- to-face…"

I get the sudden urge to flee, to run as far and fast as I can, but I'm rooted to the spot. I can't move a muscle. Petrified, I watch as Quirrell reaches up and begins to unwrap his turban. The turban falls away, then Quirrell slowly turns on the spot and my world explodes. My head feels as if it's splitting open, my body is shaking, my vision blurring and I am filled, filled to the brim with memories, hopes, fears, pains and heartaches, then something inside me snaps and a cold clearness fills me.

 _Finally._

The pain is gone, replaced by a cold calm that seems to fill me up to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

 _Eleven years._

I look down at my hands and move them, a small smile on my face. The warrior is back and she's in charge now.

 _Too long._

"Harry Potter…" The high voice belongs to the pale face on the back of Quirrell's head. I recognize the red eyes and the slit like nostrils, like a snake. Voldemort.

 _So the bastard survived._

"See what I've become? "The face says. "Mere shadow and vapour … I have form only when I can share another's body…but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own … Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

Harry's eyes widen in shock and he stumbles backward, ready to run.

"Don't be a fool," Voldemort snarls. "Better save your own life and join me… or you'll meet the same end as your parents … They died begging me for mercy…"

"LIAR!" Harry shouts suddenly and I raise my eyebrow in surprise.

 _He's a brave boy… just like his parents. Time to step in._

And so I leave the shadows, my wand firmly in my hand, and step out into the open.

"Ah it seems we have another visitor. Another child trying to be a hero?"

Quirrell turns his back towards me and Voldemort's red eyes rest on me, cold and superior and the elven year old me wants to pee her pants, but there's another me here too and that one stands her ground, afraid, but unwilling to back down.

"Let Harry go", I say, my voice firm and even, not betraying an ounce of the terror inside of me.

"You silly little girl?" the voice laughs. "You will simply die with the boy", he turns back towards Harry. "Now give me the Stone, unless you want your parents to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" Harry shouts and springs towards me. I hold out my hand, ready to grab his, but he's too slow.

"SEIZE HIM!" Voldemort screams and before Harry can make it to me, Quirrell's hand closes on his wrist, yanking him back. I rush forward, my wand ready, but Quirrell is standing behind Harry and I'm afraid I'll hit the boy. I curse and grab Harry' other hand trying to pull the struggling boy with me. Quirrell's face contorts into a mask of pain and somehow I manage to yank Harry free. I pull him with me towards the flames when the cold voice shouts again.

"SEIZE THEM! SEIZE THEM!" and Quirrell lunges, throwing us off our feet and landing on top of Harry, both hands around Harry's neck, squeezing. Harry gasps for air, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

"NO!", I shout and lunge at him, my hands clawing at every piece of skin I can find. Quirrell howls in agony. His skin beneath my fingers and his hands around Harry's neck look burned, raw, red and shiny. He throws me off and my head hits the floor, hard, making my eyes blur for a second.

 _Get up!_

 **I am trying.**

 _It's not enough! Get up!_

"Kill him you fool, and be done!" Voldemort screeches.

Quirrell raises his wand. "Avada – ", but I don't let him finish. With a sudden burst of strength I jump at him, digging my hands into the skin around his face.

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell throws himself backwards off Harry, nearly crushing me, his face blistering.

 _He can't touch us!_

And I know that the voice is right. Harry seems to have caught on as well that Quirrell can't touch either of us without suffering terrible pain – our only chance is to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from finishing that curse. A curse that I somehow know will end Harry's life in a split second, leaving behind an empty shell staring up at me with glassy eyes.

 _Too many…._

Harry jumps to his feet, his eyes meeting mine for a split second, and the two of us charge the howling Professor. Harry grabs Quirrell by the arm, hanging on as tight as he can, and I go for the face again. Quirrell screams and tries to throw us off, but I grab on even tighter. Through his terrible shrieks I can hear Voldemort's yells of "KILL THEM! KILL THEM!"

Harry's grip slackens and he crumbles to the floor, but I keep holding on until the shrieks stop, finally, and Quirrell drops to the floor at my feet, his burned face unrecognizable. I stare down at the body at my feet then I turn around a throw up violently.

 _Well done_ , the voice inside my head says and I wonder if I'm losing my mind.

 _You aren't._

 _ **Oh ok, I guess that's good then**_ , I think and then everything is black.

* * *

I awake in the Hospital Wing and my entire body feels as if it's been hit by a troll.

 _Not a troll… The darkest Wizard who's ever lived. I think we're feeling rather well, all things considered._

I guess the voice is right.

 _Of course I'm right! And I'm not "the voice". I've already told you, you aren't crazy._

 _ **I am talking to a voice inside my mind, what else would you call it then?**_

 _Eccentric?_

I laugh and I feel something, in the back of my mind, a trickle of amusement. How can I feel anything in my mind? This just isn't right. I'm freaking out. Alright, I ate a bad mushroom last night and imagined all sorts of terrible stuff and now I'm in the hospital wing because Hermione brought me down and this voice in my head is just the last of the mushrooms wearing off… Yup that's got to be it.

 _Wouldn't that be nice? But you know as well as I do that I'm not a hallucination._

And the problem is, I do, because now I remember. I remember everything.

 **You are me, aren't you?**

I don't require an answer, I know it.

 _Yes. ,_ the answer comes anyways.

 _ **But how is this possible? I mean… are you who I will be? Or who I was?**_

 _Neither… I think… I think I am who you would have been. I don't know why I'm here. After I saved that little baby_ _ **…Harry,**_ _Harry… well I think what was left of my soul found you, and since we are the same person, at least physically, latched on to it. But your subconscious supressed me, shoving me and my memories into the very back of your mind._

 _ **So all those dreams…**_

 _Are my memories. Memories that, if I have my way, will never be repeated. So much is already different this time around… Before Voldemort never lost his power or his body. You've seen it, haven't you?_

I nod, feeling silly as I do so. Do I still need to nod? I mean she's in my mind…

 _ **So all those spells… that was you, wasn't it?**_

 _I don't think that's how it works, not completely. I am here, somehow, in the back of your mind, and my knowledge is as much yours as it is mine, but this body, it's yours… I don't have one._

There is a bitterness and sadness at those words that makes me uncomfortable. Someone pulls back the curtains around my bed and I look up at the Headmaster.

"Ah, miss Morgan! You are awake. How wonderful."

He pulls out a chair and sits down beside my bed. Now that the curtains are drawn I can see Harry resting in the bed next to mine, a giant stack of gits surrounding his bed. I look at the foot of my own and see a couple of chocolate frogs waiting for me. I smile a little bit, then turn towards the Headmaster. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, blue eyes bore into mine. I wonder what he wants from me.

 _He probably wants to ask you about what happened…two eleven-year olds took out a powerful wizard, and this man looks like someone who… bastard!_

I feel a burst of rage from that strange corner of my mind and the Headmaster pulls back, frowning ever so slightly, then the pleasant smile returns, and I wonder if I just imagined it. What just happened?

 _He was using Leglimency! For all intents and purposes he was trying to read our minds._

 _ **Probably just mine… I don't think he knows you're in here.**_

A tickle of amusement.

 _You're probably right._

"There is something I wish to discuss with you, if you don't mind" Dumbledore says, his blue eyes boring into me and I wonder if he's trying to read my mind again. _He can't. I happen to be an excellent Occlumens._ I am definitely detecting a hint of smugness."What happened down in the dungeons between you, Harry and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows."

"Ok." I mumble, feeling really uncomfortable. I don't even really know what happened.

 _Eloquent._

 _ **Shut up! I'm eleven.**_

A chuckle, and I supress a smile. Dumbledore gives me a long look.

"Would you care to tell me, in your words, what happened?"

I swallow, unsure of how much I should say. _Tell him the gist of it, but don't mention me._

"Well… I noticed Hermione wasn't in her bed… so I figured that they'd gone after the Stone, they've been talking about it for so long, and I went after them to stop them. When I finally got to Harry, Professor Quirrell was attacking him so I tried to pull him away and… well he didn't seem to be able to touch" _just Harry! "_..Harry… and then Harry passed out and Professor Quirrell fell over, and he was all burned…. I don't really understand, Sir."

 _Oh wow. That really was the ¨gist¨of it. Understatement of the century._

 _ **Shut up!**_

"I see." Dumbledore says, stroking his long white beard. _How cliché._ "What you did was both very brave and very foolish."

I feel my cheeks redden in shame. He's right… It was foolish.

 _Nonsense! You did what needed to be done._

 _ **I should have gotten a Professor!**_

 _And then Harry would be dead now._

That shuts me up.

"However," Dumbledore continues and I look up. "It seems that you're arrival distracted Professor Quirrell. So it is very possible that you saved Mr. Potters life."

My cheeks redden again, this time at the praise.

 _See? I told you._

"Professor?" I ask hesitantly. "Why…why couldn't Professor Quirrell touch Harry. I mean I saw him try and it hurt him, a lot!"

"Ah yes, you are quite observant. First let me ask you a question. Was there anyone else there, in that chamber with you, besides Harry and Professor Quirrell?"

 _He already knows. About Voldemort_

But I don't need the comment to realize that. I see it, in those blue eyes. I look down at my hands and nod.

"There was….something else there…. I think it was… You-know- who."

 _Voldemort,_ the other me says at the same time as Dumbledore "Voldemort, Alicia. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

I look up at him and nod.

"Now to answer your question. You know that Mr. Potter survived the killing curse, but what you don't know is that it was his mother's sacrifice that saved him. Her protection rests upon him, which means that Voldemort, or the man he possessed, could not touch Harry."

But then why couldn't he touch me either?

 _Because of me… I stopped him, that night, somehow._ And I remember.

 _ **You got in between Harry and the curse… Shielding him somehow…**_

Dumbledore looks at me, his blue eyes serious. "Miss Morgan, what I just told you is a very personal for Mr. Potter and I am only telling you because you were there, in the chamber with him. I do expect to never hear you disclose this information to anyone else."

"Of course, Sir!" I say, nodding my head vigorously.

He chuckles. "Very good. Now I shall leave you to get some rest."

But rest is far from my mind, far from both my minds it seems.

As soon as Dumbledore's gone Harry opens his eyes and turns towards me.

"You ok?"

There is genuine concern on his face and I feel a wave of affection wash over me. Then I realize that it isn't me who's feeling it… It's… _ **What am I supposed to call you?**_ _Well… my name is Alicia…._ _ **Haha…very funny, no seriously! I can't keep calling you: the other me… that's just stupid….**_ _Alright… just call me Aly…_

There's a hint of sadness. Draco's name for me… I mean her. This is going to be a problem

"Alica?"

I look up, startled. Oh right! Harry asked me a question.

"I'm fine… You?"

He shrugs, looking down at his bandaged hands. Only now do I realize that mine are bandaged too. So is my head. And my arm. Man! I really got banged up, didn't I?

"I'm fine, I guess… I wanted to say… Thank you."

He looks straight at me, those emerald eyes meeting my blue ones and the feeling of warmth belongs to both Aly and I.

"You're welcome. I couldn't really just let you die, now could I?" I say with a small grin and he returns it.

There is a loud noise near the door a group of bickering first years bursts through the doors. Hermione, Ron, Neville and, to my surprise, Draco.

"What do you even want here" Ron asks him angrily.

"It's none of your bloody business" Draco replies haughtily. Then he sees me and rushes over.

"Lisha! Are you alright?"

I can barely supress the grin that creeps onto my face as I take in the other four's expressions. It is Ron who finds his voice first.

"You…you… you're friends?" He spits the last word out as if it tasted bad. I nod and turn towards Draco.

"I'm fine. Thank you." I give him a big smile and he blushes profoundly.

"Oh…good" he mumbles and, without another word, he rushes back through the door.

 _He's different… this time…_

I don't know how Aly feels about it, it's all muddled, but right now I don't care. I'm happy that he came, in front of people and everything .He must have really been worried.

"You're friends with Malfoy? Are you mad?" Ron splutters and Hermione hits his arm.

"It's not for you to decide who's friends with whom. "

The boys still look rather uncertain about this development, but then Harry shrugs and they're back on track.

"We were so worried about you!" Hermione suddenly bursts out, throwing her arms around Harry. The boys make their way over to the beds, Ron joining Hermione on the edge of Harry's and Neville sitting down on the edge of mine.

"We're fine" Harry's voice sounds, muffled by a bush of brown hair.

"The whole school's talking about it", Ron says. "What really happened?"

It is one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumours. Harry and I tell them everything, taking turns. About Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. The only thing I leave out is Aly, upon her request and my own wisdom. It's too bizarre.I mean what am I supposed to say. Oh yeah, I now share my mind with my dead future possible self, who's also the reason you're alive, Harry, chew on that. I don't think that'd fly to well…

They are the perfect audience, gasping in all the right places, and when Harry mentions what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screams out loud.

"So the Stone's gone? Flamel's just going to die?" Ron says finally. That tidbit of information was new to me as well… Apparently Harry and Dumbledore spoke while I was still out cold.

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that – what was it? – 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

 _Bullshit…or, well, in my case…._ I have to fight not to chuckle. It would be inappropriate somehow.

"I always said he was off his rocker," Ron says, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero is.

 _ **Maybe if I tell him I have you in my mind he'll be impressed too?**_

 _Impressed all the way to ._

"So what happened to you two?" Harry asks Ron and Hermione.

"Well, I got back all right," Hermione says. "That's where I saw Lisha, heading through the fire. I brought Ron round – that took a while – and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall – he already knew – he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" Ron says. "Sending you your fathers cloak and everything?"

"Well,"Hermione explodes, "if he did – I mean to say – that's terrible – you could have been killed."

"No it isn't," Harry says thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help, I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could…"

Harry's words make sense, too much so, and I find it a very frightening though.

 _It is… if Dumbledore truly let Harry run straight into Voldemorts arms, and it sounds like it, then I have to believe that something else is going on. I never knew Dumbledore in my time… but… the things I read and heard about him during the war make one thing clear. He is a calculating man… That combined with the fact that he tried to use leglimency on you… I don't trust him. We shouldn't either._

I can't help but agree with Aly… something feels…off.

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," Ron says proudly and I wonder when exactly I stopped being young enough to think in such a simple manner.

 _A couple of hours ago…_

There is regret in those words and I want to say something, something comforting, but I can't. It's true. The moment Aly broke free I lost much of my childhood.

 _I'm sorry_

The voice is faint and then goes completely quiet. I can still feel her, in the far back, barely.


	16. Chapter 16

**Alright, guys! This is the end... of the first part :D I have every intention of continuing this story. I would appreciate any and all feedback ( as long as it's polite). This is my first HP fanfiction and I've been having a lot of fun writing it. If there are any pressing questions you have for me, feel free to ask them and I'll try to answer them. If there are any wishes, hopes and dreams concerning part two: Let me know and I'll see if it's possible to make it happen. I do have a pretty good idea as to what is going to happen next, but I am also open to change. This is just a fun project for me and I'd love input. Alright! Enough rambling :D Enjoy**

 **\- Plappermouth**

* * *

Chapter 15 - End of Part 1

I make my way down to the end-of-year feast together with Harry that night. We've been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving both of us one last check-up, so the Great Hall is already full as we enter. It's decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covers the wall behind the High Table.I make a mental note to congratulate Draco later on.

There is a sudden hush as we walk in and then everybody starts talking loudly at once. Harry slips into a seat between Ron and Hermione, and I next to Neville at the Gryffindor table. We're both trying really hard to ignore the fact that people are standing up to look at us.

 _It will pass._

 ** _I still don't like it…_**

I feel Neville's hand on my arm and look over, giving him a small smile. The boy has been oddly quiet lately, but there is something there, in those eyes that I don't quite recognize. A strength somehow.

 _Protectiveness. He's protective of you._

 ** _Oh…_** Because what else is there to say?

"I'm glad you're ok," he says with a small smile and I nod.

The babble dies away as Dumbledore gets up.

"Another year gone!" he says cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully, your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts.

Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with two hundred and sixty-two; Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping breaks out from the Slytherin table. I can see Draco banging his goblet on the table and I give him a smile, which he returns with a wide grin.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore says. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room goes very still and Draco's grin drops off his face, replaced with wariness.

"Ahem," Dumbledore says. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

First – to Weasley …"

Ron goes purple in the face. _He looks like a radish with a bad sunburn,_ Aly remarks and I bite my tongue. **_That's rude!_** _Still true, though…._

"… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

The cheers from our table nearly raise the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seem to quiver. I can hear Percy telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Slowly silence settles back over the hall.

 _Now that I think about it… How did an eleven-year-old beat Minerva's chess set? She's brilliant…_

I shrug because I have no answer and Neville gives me a strange look. I need to be more careful about how I respond to Aly….

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger … for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Hermione buries her face in her arms; I suspect she's burst into tears. Up and down the table people are beside themselves – we're a hundred points up. Once Hermione's face resurfaces I grin at her and mouth: "Well done." She smiles.

"Third – to Miss Alicia Morgan …" Dumbledore says and I feel myself blush profusely as the other students stare at me. "… for loyalty and strength in the face of immense danger, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

I stare at my Hands as the table, once again erupts into loud cheers and Neville pats me on the back. I don't even look up at him as he congratulates me, just studying my nails. Maybe I should paint them pink.

 _Don't you dare! And don't be a brat. You deserved every single one of those points. We saved Harry._

 ** _I guess that's true… but I didn't do it for the points. I did it for… well Harry, I guess._**

"Fourth – to Mr. Harry Potter …" Dumbledore says and the room goes deadly quiet. " … for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points."

The applause erupting from the Gryffindor table is as loud as any explosion. Those who, like me, have added up the points know that Gryffindor now has four hundred and seventy-two points – exactly the same as Slytherin. We are tied for the House cup. I glance over at Draco, his face stormy…

Dumbledore raises his hand and the room gradually falls silent.

"There are all kinds of courage, " he says with a smile. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I, therefore, award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The noise erupting from the Gryffindor table is so loud that people in China probably hear it. The other's stand up and cheer as I throw myself at Neville and hug him. I am so proud of him! He is white with shock, but there is a huge grin on his face.

"I'm so proud of you," I whisper into his ear and he hugs me back.

"I've never won a point before… not one."

"Well, you deserved even more. You're a great guy."

I pull back and grin at the beet red boy.

Then my eyes wander over to Draco, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. I feel bad for him… He'd been so excited about winning the House Cup.

"Which means," Dumbledore calls over the storm of applause, "We need a little change of decoration."

He claps his hands. In an instant, the green hangings become scarlet and the silver becomes gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanishes and a towering Gryffindor lion takes its place. At the teachers tables, I see Professor Snape shaking McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile.

 _Well… wasn't that convenient…_

Aly sounds oddly cynical. Well…. Actually it's not that odd… she's cynical quite often.

 ** _What's convenient?_**

 _That the Headmaster gave us just enough points for Gryffindor to win. Do you really think he didn't think this through?_

 ** _I thought you said we deserved the points!_**

 _You do… it's just…. Too neat._

 ** _You're a very distrusting person, you know that right?_**

There's no answer, but I swear I can feel her shrug.

* * *

Suddenly, our wardrobes are empty, our trunk are packed, Trevor is found lurking in a corner of the girls toilets; notes are handed out to all students, warning us not to use magic over the holidays… _We are soooo finding a way around this… you need to practice…_ and Hagrid is there to take us down to the fleet of boats that sail across the lake. We are boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside becomes greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans as we speed past Muggle towns; pulling off our wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three- quarters at King's Cross station.

I say goodbye to Neville and the others and turn to look for my mother. And there, on the platform, she is, wearing her brown leather jacket, her hair in a messy bun. I feel a pang of longing and sadness rush through. Aly's.

 _Mom…_ The voice sounds constricted and I remember that Aly's mom died when she was only twenty-four. In a fire.

 ** _She's alive_** , I say gently and I feel her nod.

 _Yes._

But her fear transferred itself onto me and so I sprint, dodging people and trunks, to my mother and right into her open arms. She closes them around me and pulls me close.

"I've missed you" I hear myself whisper.

"I've missed you too" she says with a chuckle and gives me a small kiss on the top of my head. It's good to be home.

 _Yes it is._


End file.
